Contemplations
by daddyphannypack
Summary: a collection of oneshots in relation to dannymay 2017-2018.
1. haircut

day one  
 _hope_

Vlad Masters was an absolute enigma.

One moment, he and Daniel Fenton were locked in vicious battle, where threats of murder were commonplace and where it was near impossible to escape without a few deep cuts that were difficult to explain to concerned passerby. The next moment, Vladimir was angrily chastising the teenager for being careless and threatening to email Principal Ishiyama about Dash Baxter and countless other school bullies. After all, ignoring Amity Parks' mayor and well-known billionaire would be social suicide; no doubt she would lose her job.

It was… confusing, to say the least. Danny wasn't sure whether he should call the old fruitloop for help on a difficult geometry problem or if he should throw him into depths of the Ghost Zone at once. No doubt he noticed all the times Vlad winced after aiming a well-placed blow to Danny's abdomen or how he tended to exercise more care during their battles.

In Danny's case, he was all bark and no bite (besides a little nibble every now and then to keep the teen in his place, lest he become bold and challenge the older halfa). Unfortunately, it wasn't the same case for other ghosts. Danny once saw the old man burst into flames when Skulker gave him a bout of unfortunate news. He hadn't even known Vlad was capable of bursting into flames.

These thoughts, among others, floated through Danny's mind like lazy clouds on a warm summer's day as he sat on a stainless steel countertop, lazily swinging his boots and studying Vlad Masters through locks of overgrown white hair.

They were in Vladimir's lab, surrounded by shiny, unblemished surfaces and basking in giant fluorescent lights. Vlad, dressed impeccably as always in a black suit (though his jacket had been tossed aside and his white sleeves pushed up to his elbows), spun elegantly on his heel and scoffed at the sight of Danny's long, messy hair. A pair of scissors, the same reflective steel as the rest of the laboratory, twirled lazily in his left hand whilst the right reached forward to tousle Danny's hair.

The teen instinctively flinched.

Vlad's fingers froze amidst Danny's tangled mop. He exhaled loudly through his nose before his fingers continued on, catching on small tangles that were easily unknotted. "Really, Daniel; it's just a haircut. Lord knows you would do a horrible job."

"I don't know if I can trust you to cut my hair when you can't even cut your own."

Vlad ran a comb through Danny's hair and chopped off his bangs with several quick motions. "Oh, please. I like to think my look is fashionable."

"Oh yeah; man buns are height of fashion."

"I don't wear man buns, Daniel."

"Bet."

Danny thought he heard Vlad chuckle a bit, albeit under his breath, and the two fell into a sort of comfortable silence. The younger halfa's mind drifted further and further into the conundrum that was Vlad Masters, and, after several minutes that were filled only with the sound of scissors snipping and a slight hum of machinery, Danny opened his mouth once more.

"Why are you doing this?" It was barely a whisper, as though Danny had mouthed the words to himself rather than speak them to the person that whose mind had entangled itself in Danny's hair.

"You're going to have to speak up if you plan on me hearing you, Daniel. Even ghosts become hard of hearing in their old age."

 _Snip._

"Why are you doing this?" Danny said, louder, and he swallowed the growing lump that had begun gathering in his throat immediately after he'd uttered it the first time. "Being nice to me, I mean."

Vlad scoffed again. It was becoming a habit. "I'd hardly call it 'being nice to you.' I just want you to be able to watch me the next time I beat you into the ground."

 _Snip._

"You're a horrible liar, fruitloop."

"The entirety of Amity Park would beg to differ."

"Come on, tell me the truth. Why are you doing this? My mom could just as easily give me a haircut."

 _Snip._

"Please. Maddie is far too busy to deal with trivial things like this. I don't doubt that her split ends are something akin to a cavewoman's."

"She would've cut my hair if I'd asked. She's not a bad mom, Vlad."

Vlad's eyebrows furrowed. "I wouldn't want to bother her with it when I can just as easily do it myself."

 _Snip._

Danny pulled away immediately following that cut, turning his head to glare daggers into Vlad's eyes. "So that's what this is about? You trying to impress my mom? For the last _fricking_ time, Vlad, you're not going to—"

"That's not what this is about, Daniel!" Vlad snapped, his hand slamming against the countertop and leaving smudged fingerprints behind. Danny nearly jumped out of his boots.

"That's not what this is about," Vlad repeated, quieter this time, and his eyes wandered to the floor. A derisive chuckle emanated from his throat. "I was a fool to think I could ever snag a treasure such as your mother. And I despise Jack with every fiber of my being, I truly do, but killing him? As time wears on and those days in the hospital become nothing more than a distant memory, I just … I can't find the energy to waste my waking moments on his demise. And, of course, you saw how my efforts to clone you turned out. All I'd managed to create were mindless, liquefying monsters and a rebellious preteen girl."

Danny stared on, lips pressed tight against each other.

"I guess I've always been doomed to be lonely. Ever since the very beginning. I just thought that, maybe, if I pretended like you were my own, I would forget that you actually weren't. _I just want to forget."_

"You're not my dad, Vlad, and you never will be."

Vladimir wouldn't meet Danny's eyes.

"But that doesn't mean there isn't hope for you. I mean, come on, if you just stopped being stuck in the past and moved on, I'm sure you'd find someone. I mean, you're smart, you're rich, and you got that weird ponytail thing going on that I guess is popular nowadays for some reason."

Vlad huffed a bit, a grin playing across his lips.

"Now please just finish cutting my hair so this can stop being awkward and I can go the hell home."

Vladimir nodded once, picked up the scissors and the comb, and once again began to busy himself with Danny's hair. Once again, like before, several minutes passed by.

Vlad mumbled something under his breath.

"You're going to have to speak up if you plan on me hearing you, Vlad," Danny mocked, boots tapping against the side of the counter.

"I said thank you, you twat."

Danny grinned.

There's hope for you yet, Vlad Masters.

 _There's hope for you yet._

* * *

 _so, ur fave got horribly sick on the **first day of dannymay** and couldn't even look at a computer screen without wanting to throw up. the result? i'm already a day late. yay._

 _also ! if you've already read this story and ur like wtf tay ? don't worry. go ahead and skip ahead to chapter 10 if you've already read the first nine oneshots. things were getting hectic on my account and i decided to contain all dannymay oneshots in one fanfic. hope this new change doesn't throw you off course too much !_

 _anyway, i hope you enjoy this late badger cereal oneshot. my inspiration came in the form of "vlad masters is an enigma" and i just kinda went with it from there. let the story take me where it did, you know? yeah. go ahead and tell me what you think of it in the reviews!_

 _xx_


	2. ashes

day 2  
 _fire_

 _"You will remember my name."_

"Becca! For the last time, shut up!"

Becca McLain was sitting on her bed, her back against the gray walls and her legs stretched out over her black blankets. An old guitar, weathered and rundown from age, sat in her lap. Her fingertips were red from hours of practicing.

"I'm just trying to get the chorus, Mom!"

"Yeah? Well I'm trying to _sleep_!" Something crashed against Becca's door and she jumped, wide eyes glued to the poster of Stevie Nicks that hung lopsidedly beside her doorframe.

She never should've pressed her mother, especially when she was like this. But she really, _really_ wanted to finish this song. Stupid alcohol. Stupid mom. How was she supposed to write a hit song when she couldn't even play?

Becca huffed, a piece of brown hair falling into her eyes and tickling her nose. She reached over, grabbed a black hair band off her nightstand (which was crowded with empty energy drinks), and pulled her hair up into a high ponytail. She had to get this chorus before she went to bed. She'd just have to be a little quieter.

Becca slouched against her wall, a poster crumpling a bit against her back. How the hell was she supposed to write a chorus when she couldn't even figure out her stage name? It couldn't be Rebecca McLain; who would listen to a rock legend whose name was Rebecca? It had to reflect her past. Somehow. And she had to do something about her God awful hair, too.

 _"It was, it was September."_

Ember fell asleep with her guitar resting in her lap.

And she woke up to the smell of something burning.

Becca opened her eyes. Sometime during the night, her lights had flickered out. She couldn't see a single thing. A power outage, maybe?

 _God,_ what was that smell? She coughed twice. It was so _bad_ ; it was practically burning her nose.

Becca stood, feeling her way slowly around the various objects littering the floor, and tried her lights. Her room remained darker than dark.

Another cough escaped from her lips. That smell was making her nauseous. Becca's curiosity got the best of her, and she felt blindly for the cool metal of her door handle but was instead met with something burning hot.

"Ow! Jesus." Becca shook her head, hissing viciously. "What the hell?" Her still-groggy mind just couldn't wrap itself around what was going on.

She reached down, grabbed a shirt off the floor, and wrenched open the door as quickly as possible.

All that greeted her on the other side was smoke, thick and black, burning her open eyes and forcing itself down her throat. Becca gagged on it. Her chest felt like it was on fire, and she fell to her knees in a desperate attempt to rid herself of the pain.

 _Fire._

 _There was a fire!_

Becca tried to look around through slit eyelids. Orange flames, huge and enveloping, were climbing quickly up the stairs. Black smoke clung to the ceiling and swooped down towards her face. Any skin that made contact with the carpet burned fiercely.

"Mom!"

She and her mom had to get out. They had to. She clambered clumsily to her mom's door, burnt her already-stinging hand on the handle, and blindly pressed on.

 _"Mom!"_

She wasn't answering. She'd probably knocked herself out by drinking so much, damn her. They didn't have time for this!

Becca's hands met her mom's warm, sticky skin, and she shook her crazily. She was screaming, her voice already hoarse from the smoke, but she wasn't waking up. Her mom wasn't waking up.

Becca was ridiculously lightheaded now. Firelight had ripped through the door and began playing shadows along her mother's resting face. Tears fell onto her cheeks and evaporated immediately afterwards.

"Mom." Becca's voice wasn't working anymore. Black spots danced in her vision. Why wasn't her mom waking up? She had to wake up.

Distantly, barely heard over the crackling of the fire, alarms screeched. Becca's hair felt like it was melting. She couldn't open her eyes anymore.

 _Your heart, your heart has rendered_

 _Your loss, now bear the shame_

Becca lost her grip on her mom and sank to the floor.

 _Like dead trees in cold December_

 _Nothing but ashes remain._

* * *

 _so, um, not my best work, but hey; its dannymay. none of dannymay will be my best work, seeing as i only have a day to write it. nonetheless, i hope you enjoyed! ember's backstory just fascinates me. how did the fire start? what was her name? what was her family like?_

 _yeah. unfortunately, i couldn't answer all these questions in detail. but, anyway, don't forget to review and tell me what you think! yes, i'm aware it's a day late; fight me. I'm off to honors tea._

 _xx_


	3. lost teeth & animal crossing

It was kind of weird how Tucker and Sam always managed to be there when things went horrible awry.

They were sitting in Sam's bedroom, with Tucker playing Animal Crossing whilst splayed across an unmade bed and Sam sitting cross-legged against a wall with a spider plushy in her lap and her nose stuck in some mythology book. They sat in comfortable silence; a kind of silence that only best friends could sit comfortably in. Every so often, a little noise would emanate from Tucker's DSI and distract Sam from her reading. Her resulting glare would make Tucker chuckle a bit.

There was no other noise in the house. Sam's parents were off doing "whatever snobby couples do on Friday night" (Sam's words) and Danny, who was usually the conversation starter, had left the room not long ago in search of a restroom (he never could remember where the bathrooms were located).

And then someone screamed.

Sam's book flew out of her hands and she jumped up, running to the door in such a hurried frenzy that she tripped over a pile of clothes. Tucker had lost his grip on his DSI and it made a resounding _smack_ as it hit his face, resulting in a string of curses that would have persuaded Sam's parents to call the police. Then they were both attempting to squeeze through the door at the same time, Sam shouting reassuring things to Danny that actually sounded more like a string of incoherent struggling noises.

Sam and Tucker's footsteps sounded more like tiny earthquakes as they ran down the hall.

The door to the closest bathroom slammed open, hit the wall, and caused some thousand dollar painting to clatter to the ground. The frame shattered and probably damaged the painting, but Sam wasn't thinking about the chiding that she would endure from her parents later in the evening. Rather, she was thinking about what horrible thing could be happening to Danny now, and why she hadn't been there to help, and _oh God what if he's already dead what am I going to do how am I going to explain my best friend's dead body to my parents oh my God._

Instead of Danny's bloody, deceased body, Sam and Tucker were surprised to see their best friend in perfect health, standing in front of the mirror with giant saucer eyes. He jumped when the door slammed, his lips pressed together in such a thin line that they were practically nonexistent. There was a little cut in his lower lip that was leaking a tiny dot of blood, but it was nothing compared to Sam's carpet-burned forearms and Tucker's bloody nose.

Tucker was the first to break the silence. "What the motherfucking fuck, dude? What's the matter?"

Danny shook his head, pointed to his mouth, and then jabbed his index finger towards the sink. Tucker practically pushed Sam to get a look inside the sink, and the two froze at the site.

Four of Danny's bloodied teeth were inside, sitting precariously close to the drain.

"Are you losing all your teeth?" Sam whipped her head around to face Danny, the ends of her hair swiping against her chin as she did so.

He shook his head no.

"Are you unable to open your mouth?" Tucker queried.

 _No._

"Are there any more lost teeth?" Sam.

 _No._

"Is your mouth filled with blood?" Tucker.

 _No._

"Then open up, dude! It can't be that bad, can it? We can get you fake teeth or something. Honestly, I thought you were dying when I heard you scream, so this is a major improvement. You're not dying, are you?"

Danny shook his head again.

"Good. Come on, let's see."

Danny moved his eyes from Tucker to Sam. He was shaking.

"It's alright, Danny. Everything's alright."

Then, slowly, surely, Danny opened up his mouth.

No teeth were missing. None. Rather, four teeth (two on top and two on bottom) were growing at an alarming rate to fit in the gaping holes that had been left behind. This would have been all fine and well, except those four teeth were more like _fangs,_ looking strikingly too similar to stalactites and stalagmites for Sam's comfort. As they watched, the fangs finally slowed and stopped, with the bottom ones a bit smaller than the top ones. Each was, however, a good few centimeters above the surrounding teeth, gleaming dangerously in the fluorescent bathroom lights.

Tucker burst out laughing. It started as a fit of giggles and progressed into complete cackles, tears forming along the waterline of his eyes.

"This isn't funny, Tuck!" Danny yelled, looking in the mirror once more to study the new addition to his mouth. "How the hell am I going to explain this to my parents? What will the people at school think? Dude, _I'm dead."_

"Who cares what they think?" Sam said. "We should be worrying about _how the hell this is even scientifically possible."_

"Sam—"

"No, Danny, listen! This literally means that you getting ghost powers _somehow also managed to make you grow four new bones in your fucking skull._ "

Tucker was still laughing. "Dude, imagine how much you can scare Dash with those things. You're a certified vampire now."

"Shut _up,_ Tuck!"

Tucker straightened, wiped his tears, and exhaled slowly. "I can't believe I stopped playing Animal Crossing for this. Adiós."

And with that, Tucker grabbed a toilet paper roll off the shelf, stuffed some of it up his bleeding nostril, and left the crowded bathroom.

"Sam, this is a huge deal. I can't just get rid of these like I can get rid of every other aspect of my ghost powers. People are gonna ask questions."

Sam shrugged. "You're parents aren't observant enough to notice. Also, haven't you seen Blue Exorcist? No one really asked questions about his new fangs in there. I mean, they noticed it, but most people just kind of wrote it off as a birth defect or something."

 _"My life is not a fucking anime, you fucking weeb."_

"You've got the white hair and the angst. It might as well be. Anyways, we need to teach you how to scream only when there's an actual problem. Honestly, I'm just curious as to how this is even scientifically possible."

"Sam, I have a weird ball of energy stuck in my chest that makes it possible for me to have ice powers. A few new bones shouldn't be this big of a deal."

Sam, however, had already turned around and started walking away before Danny had even finished his sentence.

"Hey, where are you going?" He yelled after her.

"To finish my book! Oh, also, can you do me a favor and clean up that broken glass? Love ya!"

Danny huffed and washed his teeth down the sink. Despite how annoyed he felt, he still found himself grinning.

 _Thank God for my friends._

* * *

 _yes im aware this is horribly late. yes im the worst. but hey! a comedy oneshot instead of those angst ones that i keep doing! honestly, these are a lot more fun to write. i should do more of these._

 _thank you for all the support im getting so far on these oneshots. i really appreciate it. like, i really do. really, **really** do. you guys keep me going._

 _i have to go pee before i burst. hopefully i wont grow fangs while im in there._

 _xx_


	4. drunk stargazing

In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have gone on the roof with a dusty bottle of wine by way of a rickety old ladder whilst my mom was out of town for the weekend. It was a bad idea, I can see that now that the ladder is lying in the overgrown grass by the lilac bush and I'm still on the roof with a half-empty bottle of wine and a constellation book that I can't even read in this damn moonlight.

I wasn't even drunk. This was the worst idea I've ever had, and trust me; I've had a _lot_ of bad ideas. A lot of them. Now I was stuck on the cold roof for a solid night with nothing but a dumb constellation book and a useless bottle of wine that _wasn't at all_ making me drunk enough to ignore the fact that the wind was _fucking cold_ and I was wearing a holey t-shirt and running shorts. Maybe I could jump down from the roof … Nope. No, never mind. I'm not drunk enough to do that, either.

Great. Just great. I could've just as easily watched the stars on the _grass,_ but _hey, wouldn't it be more fun to lie on the roof and not get stuck up there at all oh no that's not even a possibility lol great thinking Voice In My Head you're the best._

"Hey, you good?"

I was up in a second, and then I was stumbling on the slanted roof, and then I was _falling backwards, and then I was screaming and flailing and look there's the ground—_

Two gloved hands grabbed my flailing ones, yanking me away from the edge of the roof. My knees buckled, I overbalanced, and I ran straight into the person holding me upright. We both fell, our heads banging into each other's, my foot connecting with something smooth and wobbly and—

 _CRASH!_

Great. There goes the wine. Now I just had the constellation book and the lump that I was laying on. Oh wait _shit. This was a person. Maybe I was drunker than I initially thought._

"Oh motherfucking fuck I'm so sorry I was just stargazing and I got stuck on the roof and then—wait a hot second, how'd you get on my roof?"

The person in question was still groaning, and I was still on top of them, so I rolled off and finally got a better look at who I'd rammed heads with. Whoever it was was glowing, with this ridiculous white hair and a skintight black hazmat suit and when they cracked their eyes open I caught a glimpse of the brightest neon green eyes I'd ever seen, not that I'd ever _seen_ another pair of neon green eyes and—

Fuck. My drunk ass had rammed heads with Danny Phantom. _The_ Danny Phantom. Ghost-fighting, badass, probably-really-ridiculously-hot-to-straight-people Danny Phantom.

"ARE YOU OKAY?" I shouted, and then I realized it was too loud and tried again. "Are you okay?" Nope. Too quiet. I was either more of a lightweight than I initially thought or I was just _really_ flustered in front of the literal world-saving superhero _Danny Phantom. Fuck I could literally reach out and touch him._

"I'm fine," Phantom said, his right gloved hand still massaging circles into his forehead. "What about you? Sorry about scaring you, I just saw your fallen ladder and figured you could use a hand." He froze suddenly, eyes widening a fraction. "Wait, did you say stargazing?"

I started picking at the goose bumps on my arm, my face flushing. "Yeah. You're probably gonna think I'm a bit of a nerd."

"No! No, I love stargazing! Can I join you? God, I love stars. Wait, come here, you see that one? That's Hercules, and over there is Sagittarius, and—" His hand ran into the constellation book and he picked it up, eyebrows furrowed. "I used to have this book! Are you trying to learn about constellations? Oh, man, I know _all_ about them. I've been studying them since I was really little. No, seriously, sit down next to me; you see that cluster of stars over there?"

He was glowing brighter and brighter with every rushed, rambled sentence. He was _actually_ glowing with happiness.

And that's how, at 2:30 in the morning, my drunk ass found out that Danny Phantom is a _total_ space nerd.

And a bit more human than I had originally thought him to be.

* * *

 _ok so this is a bit rushed and a lot shorter than the other dannymay oneshots i've written but its may thirteenth and i'm still on day four and i'm a literal mess lmao but doNT WORRY im gonna get these oneshots done even if i end up finishing in literally june._

 _thanks for putting up with me. i'm still in school and i have finals and stuff and just wow its so stressful thank you so much_

 _also review bc i wanna hear what u think about this story whether it's good or bad or something in between_

 _xx_


	5. a horrible no good very bad day

Danny was having a rough day.

It started when, at three in the morning, Skulker decided to pay him a visit via the loudest fucking flying scooter that Danny had ever heard in his life, which, mixed with him being literally slammed into the side of a brick building only minutes afterwards, led to a pounding migraine that left him in a heap on the sidewalk for a little over an hour, surrounded by the crushed bits of Skulker's metal suit.

At seven fifty-five, he woke up way late. As in, the-final-bell-rings-in-five-minutes-and-I-can't-find-a-shirt-that-doesn't-smell-like-dead-cow late. And then Mr. Lancer, his homeroom teacher, gave him a detention when he slid into the room two minutes after the final bell, wearing one of his dad's giant Fenton Works sweatshirts with nothing underneath. Five minutes after he sat down, breathing laboriously, his ghost sense went off and he had to rush out of the room with a quick, "I have to go to the bathroom!" which resulted in _another_ detention, as he hadn't been given permission to leave the classroom.

And then, as the gosh diddly darn icing on the cake, Dash Baxter met him in the hallway after second period and tripped Danny as they passed. "Oh, so sorry!" He had exclaimed overdramatically, and then he grabbed the fabric of Danny's tired old backpack and tore a hole right through the bottom. His books and crumpled papers went flying and he ended up late for third period.

Oh, he almost forgot to mention: Clockwork hadn't been leaving him alone. It was always Ghost King this, Ghost King that. Danny couldn't handle being the Ghost King, he was positive. Sure, he hadn't had his coronation yet, but Clockwork was always mentioning training and studying. The first time his mentor brought up studying, Danny had laughed in his face. He didn't even have time to study for his vocabulary tests, for fuck's sake. Why couldn't Clockwork just be the Ghost King? He seemed perfectly capable.

Danny had decided that he couldn't do this anymore.

Rather than heading for the lunchroom, he trotted down the hall and towards the office. He stopped before turning the corner, put on the most pain-filled face he could muster, and slowly stepped out and made his way to the office desk.

"Yes?" said Ms. Coverly, the secretary.

"I feel really sick," said Danny, forcing his voice to become hoarse. "I feel like I'm gonna throw up."

Ms. Coverly had pulled a face, eyed him up and down, and muttered, "You do look a bit pale…"

Internally, Danny had taken that offensively. Externally, he nodded weakly.

Ms. Coverly sighed and ran a hand through her ridiculously teased hair. "Alright, I'll call your parents."

"Can you call my sister instead? My parents are really busy at work."

"Uh …"

Danny coughed so hard his throat had actually started to hurt, making sure not to cover his mouth.

Ms. Coverly had pulled out the phone before Danny's cough was finished. "What's your sister's number?"

And then he was in Jazz's car, smiling broadly at her as she scowled down at him. "Just because I'm on break for the month does _not_ mean you can call me willy-nilly and pretend to be sick.

"You're a blessing, Jazz. Bless you." Danny had put his hands together as though praying, bowing twice.

Jazz had sighed heavily.

This was what was running through his head as he floated aimlessly through the quiet green abyss that was the Ghost Zone, turning onto his back and supporting his head with his hands. _My life kinda sucks,_ he told himself. _Just a little bit. But, hey, at least I finally got this moment of silence to myself._

And then he was falling.

Danny's back hit soft grass and he flailed, yelling even after he was already on solid ground. It took him several more disorientating moments before his head wrapped around what had happened.

He'd fallen through a natural ghost portal.

Danny groaned, squeezed his eyes shut, and took a few moments before lifting up his head to observe where he'd ended up. Then he heard a noise that sounded a lot like a mixture of crackling electricity and rushing wind from behind, and he turned his head quickly towards where the portal had been.

Key words: had been. It was gone. Behind it, a crowd of befuddled people stood watching him. Someone screamed out something in a foreign language, and pitchforks seemed to materialize out of thin air.

"Fuck," Danny said.

"AAAAH!" The villagers said.

They were upon him before he could blink, and Danny caught a glance at the sharp end of a pitchfork pointed directly at his skull before he phased through the ground and ended up behind the crowd.

"Clockwork, I could really use your help here!" Danny shouted, which was, apparently, a mistake, because the villagers spun on their heel and came running after him once more. A pitchfork narrowly missed his head.

"CLOCKWORK. I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME." Danny screamed, twisting around trees but trying not to stray too far from where the natural portal had dropped him off. He was hoping and praying that it would just show up in the same place and take him back to his time, where he could flop into his bed and fall asleep. You know, now that he thought about it, leaving his room had been a Bad Idea. He never should have entered the Ghost Zone. Bad things always happened when he entered the Ghost Zone.

Something heavy hit him in the back of his head and he hit the ground hard, later colliding with a tree. Several leaves showered down upon him.

Danny's bleary eyes stared down at what had caused his fall. A rock. Some fucking villager hit him in the head with a _fucking rock._ That migraine that he'd gotten at three in the morning from Skulker came back full force.

"Cwockwork," Danny muttered, his tongue feeling swollen in his mouth. He could taste blood.

And then the scene disappeared, and he was lying on a metal floor surrounded by clocks. His head continued to swim.

"Now, you sure did fail that test, didn't you?" A familiar voice queried, and purple robes floated into view.

"Twest?"

"Of course. To become king of the Ghost Zone, you must undergo a series of highly intensive tests. Your reliance on me was a bit concerning. You must figure out how to solve problems by yourself, Danny."

"I fackin' hat yoo, Cwockwork."

"We'll work on your language tomorrow, hm?"

And then Danny passed out.

* * *

 _im so behind on dannymay that its funny._

 _anyway, im too tired to really talk right now. honestly, i don't know how i managed to write this chapter. it's a little strange and ooc for clockwork and rly rly strays from the moment in time / clocks concept, but hey, oh well._

 _pls review ! i love to hear your thoughts, whether good or bad (dont send all out hate tho i have a low enough self esteem as it is)_

 _xx_

 _ps: to those that are reviewing, im rly sry that im not responding. ive just been soo incredibly busy lately. i just want you to know that i appreciate your reviews nontheless and **i do read them.** i promise. i also love them and they make me cry tears of joy, so there's that too._


	6. ghost or human

Danny had heard what Tucker and Sam had said he looked like when they dragged him out of the portal. He'd gone over the story in his head a million times.

Nothing could have prepared himself for what he saw, though.

There he was, as usual, black hair and pale skin reflected in the bathroom mirror. But his eyes were a luminescent green and the points of fangs snuck out from under his upper lip. He wasn't human. He wasn't even ghost. Actually, at the moment, Danny wasn't sure what he was.

 _Ghost or human?_

Danny's grip on the bathroom sink tightened. Vaguely, he could hear it creaking under the force, but his ears were filled with static and his mind was on those twin pair of green eyes that stared unblinkingly back at him. He couldn't control it. His parents were going to see, and he was going to be laying on a stainless steel tabletop in no time.

But he was still their son, wasn't he?

 _Wasn't he?_

 _Ghost or human?_

Pools of water started collecting on the rim of those neon eyes. Heavy, labored breaths whistled as the wind weaved between his pointed teeth. The color of his irises started to bleed into the white of his sclera until nothing but green remained. The lights above flickered as he grew more distressed and his heart seemed to beat in time with them.

He couldn't possibly be doing that, could he?

The lights went out. His body was overcome with cold. His gaze never wavered on the mirror.

The sink splintered, cracked, and a chunk of the side he had been holding onto fell and shattered into pieces upon contact with the tile floor.

 _Ghost or human? Ghost or human? Ghost or human?_

He wasn't alive. He wasn't dead. He was a monster.

 _Ghost or human? Ghost or human? Ghost or human?_

Danny didn't notice when he started hyperventilating. He hardly noticed when his knees buckled and he fell to the ground, bits of shattered sink biting into his legs and cutting up his hands.

 _GHOST OR HUMAN? GHOST OR HUMAN? GHOST OR HUMAN?_

He was both. He was neither. He didn't know.

God, his parents were going to _kill_ him.

A steady stream of tears fell from his eyes, froze in midair, and smashed against the floor just as that part of the sink had done. His entire body was shaking.

 _GHOST? OR? HUMAN?_

 _What am I?_

His phone rang loudly, a steady stream of the Ghostbuster's theme stopping the static in his ears. Sam had insisted on that being his ringtone about a year ago, when Danny admitted to her that his parents were obsessed with ghosts. For a while, it had been funny.

Not so much now.

A very inhuman noise escaped his throat and scared him so badly that he jumped and scrambled, his back hitting the wall behind him with such force that a picture fell from the wall and shattered just like everything else in the bathroom seemed to be doing. Just like he seemed to be doing.

The Ghostbuster's theme kept playing.

Danny was flipping open the phone before he was even sure what he was doing. _"What?!"_ He growled, and, like before, became so afraid of his own voice that a whimper followed the query. He continued to hyperventilate until white spots dotted his vision.

 _"Took you long enough to pick up! Okay, so Tuck and I were think—Danny? Are you okay? What's wrong? Tucker, something's wrong with Danny. Yeah, I know that's bad!"_

Danny didn't answer. He was suddenly infatuated with the way his eyes were shining so brightly that they were lighting the area in front of him in deep neon green.

 _"Danny, Tucker and I are gonna be there in a few minutes. Hold on, okay?"_

Danny didn't know how much time had passed before the bathroom door burst open, Sam and Tucker standing on the other side. He was still holding the phone to his ear and he was still sitting in a pile of glass. He jumped when the door opened, lines of frozen tears glistening on his cheeks.

Sam and Tucker were on him in a second, holding him close, wiping the ice off his cheeks, helping him breathe. Danny noticed that Sam's hair smelt really nice. Kinda like flowers and kinda like fruit. He couldn't really place it. He also noticed that Tucker's voice was really calming, for some reason. It was just nice to hear him speak.

The room stopped being tinted green. Dimly, Danny was aware that that meant that they weren't glowing anymore.

 _Ghost or human?_

Sitting there, basking in the smell of Sam's flowery-fruity hair and Tucker's calming voice, Danny realized that he didn't care.

As long as he had his friends, he was going to be just fine.

* * *

 _first of all, before anyone asks: yes i typed this the way it's typed on purpose. the sentences are short to and kinda choppy to emphasize the way danny's feeling and help the readers understand the mood. honestly, i have no idea how to explain it in words. just know that i know what i'm doing and if this is the first thing you've read from me you might want to go read something else because i promise i promise_ i promise _that i usually write better than this and everything in this story was highly intentional._

 _now that_ that's _out of the way, i wanna thank you all for reading and ask that you please leave a review. i don't care if your review says something like "this is the worst piece of trash i've ever read in my life" and is followed with ways for me to better this piece of trash or if your review says something like "this is the most amazing thing i''ve ever had the pleasure of reading" and is followed by a multitude of praises. i just want to hear what you think and why you think it. i really, really appreciate it when people take the time to tell me what went through their head as they read my story._

 _anyways, i hope you enjoyed. i really do. and im sorry for this being so dang late; this month has been beyond busy for me. thank you._

 _xx_


	7. language class

A language class.

Danny could not have just heard Clockwork say he needed to take _a language class._

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

"Ghost language differentiates from place to place in the Zone, but it's universally the same. I'd say that ghost language is quite similar to Earth's Spanish in the sense that no two countries typically speak alike, with the exception that ghost language is a much more complex language than human Spanish," Clockwork continued, ignoring Danny's query. "Vigorous studying will be needed if you expect to speak it fluently before your coronation as King of the Ghost Zone in one year."

"Clockwork, I'm failing Spanish," Danny deadpanned, shoulders slumping significantly lower.

"Let us begin with the alphabet, which contains a collection of noises that correspond with a specific written sign, or letter. Though, in _Guatashkilet,_ the equivalent to letter would be said as _fijinimario,_ which is quite unlike _Jenarshkili,_ which would be _poghariohum._ Other ghost languages branch off of these two words when speaking of the English term _letter._ For example, _Ponarnli_ is _fijinipotum._ Notice how _Guatashkilet_ and _Ponarnli_ share the prefix _fijin,_ whilst _Jenarshkili_ and _Ponarnli_ share the suffix—"

 _"Clockwork,"_ Danny said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can't do this right now. I have finals coming up and grades to raise before my parents filet me in my sleep. The last thing I need is to attend ghost highschool.

"Nonsense; none of the ensuing time lines depict your parents filleting you."

"It's a figure of speech."

"Ah, see? We are both learning about languages today. Now, let us continue: the _Guatashkilet_ alphabet is pronounced as follows: _ash, cono, guata, jin, flen, pos, spu, arnli, tum, po, ken—"_

"CLOCKWORK, FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

"I do believe that term is inappropriate, Daniel."

"I'VE TOLD YOU, I CAN'T LEARN GHOST'S SPEAK. I LITERALLY CAN'T. I KNOW THIS MIGHT COME AS A SHOCK TO YOU, BUT I HAVE SCHOOL AND GRADES TO WORRY ABOUT."

"Ah, I see. So the wellbeing of the entirety of the Ghost Zone means little to nothing to you."

"YE—wait no. That's not what I meant."

 _"Jaloquantash,_ Danny. Then what, exactly, did you mean?" Clockwork was beginning to feel frustrated, which was an odd emotion for him. Actually, any emotion for him was commonly placed as odd, though it seemed more and more common as he found himself spending additional time with his mentee.

Danny ran his gloved fingers through his hair. "Can we just reschedule?"

"Your classes?"

"No. My coronation."

"Unfortunately, that's not how coronations work."

"Can't we make an exception?" Danny's voice had reached a pitch and whine that made him seem years younger than he actually was.

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

 _ **"POSLARUNDO GUANMIJIN, CLOCKWORK!"**_ Danny screamed, and then, taken aback by the words that came out of his mouth (words that he wasn't sure of the meaning to), he lost hold on his floating and smacked against the ground with a resounding _thud_ that continued to echo throughout the cavernous clock tower for several seconds afterwards.

"That wasn't very nice," Clockwork muttered.

"Fuck, I have no idea what I just said, fuck I'm so sorry that was a complete surprise that's literally never happened before I have no idea what happened holy fuck me with a stick Clockwork what just happened."

"It seems that you're more ready to begin learning ghost language than even you believe."

"Clockwork that's not how languages work."

"Right, so, moving on with the alphabet, then!"

 _"Clockwork you do realize that babies aren't born just spewing words right like that's not natural I shouldn't be able to speak a different language when I don't even know it yet."_

 _"Kwa, yin, dop, sund, ndo, tre, askli—"_

 _" k."_

 _"Ton, ihn, ghe …"_

It was no use. Clockwork wasn't going to stop.

Danny just hoped he caught on to this faster than he caught on to second year Spanish.

* * *

 _i had a blast making this oneshot, even though it's mostly just a compilation of noises and sounds that i created on the fly. trust me: this isn't actual ghost speak. this is all coming from my head._

 _anyway, as usual, make sure you review! if you've been around for a while, you already know the whole spiel: i love to hear positive or negative thoughts no matter what (i specifically enjoy critique comments, though. feel free to type up one of those if it's to your liking)._

 _xx_


	8. contemplations

Out of all the places she'd travelled and all the sights she'd seen, Danielle found that she'd always hold a soft spot for London.

It was weird when she thought about it. Before travelling, she'd always pictured herself as an Africa or Australia kinda gal; running with the kangaroos and playing American soccer with the Afrikaans after they got out of school. That was all fine and dandy and she really _did_ enjoy it, but there was just something about London that had her stopping in for a rest and a bite to eat before continuing to peruse the entire world.

Dani was walking down the street, blue hoodie up to block her face from the softly falling snow. It was melting upon contact with the ground, causing car lights to reflect off the surfaces of roads and walls damp from the frigid water. Her hair wasn't in its iconic ponytail; rather, it framed her face and stuck out from underneath her hoodie, catching tiny snowflakes in its tresses. Someone lightly bumped into her as they passed, muttering a quick "Sorry," before hurrying on their way.

What on _Earth_ did Danielle like about this damn city, anyway? It was cold, typically wet, and bustling with loud cars and shouting people. That _definitely_ wasn't why she kept coming back. She much preferred the outskirts of London, dotted with old-styled homes and large schools. Danielle turned sharply on her heel and headed down a back alleyway, making the split decision to head towards those neighborhoods now.

Hmph. So what _did_ Danielle like about this place? She liked the accents and how sentences rolled off one's tongue and played through someone's ears. She liked that one girl she met, Lacelia, and how she was always complaining about not being able to join Dani on her worldwide adventures. Lacelia had always been the adventurous, strong type; Dani noted that she strikingly resembled Valerie in that way.

What else? Well, she liked the empty hotel rooms that she crashed in, and she liked how the people never seemed to mind giving her a bite of free food, and she liked the nighttime when the bustling slowed and dots of stars played across the sky.

She liked sitting atop the Tower Bridge and watching the sun set over the city. She liked sitting alone on the London Eye, listening to the constant singing of birds and watching the tiny people below. She even liked that giant billboard that depicted Danny Phantom flying after a pair of giant, semi-solid green ghosts. It was nice to know that someone she'd always seen as her older brother was being appreciated in places other than Amity Park.

Danielle stopped dead in her tracks. Standing there, listening to cars passing and water splashing, it dawned on Dani why she always seemed to come back to London.

It reminded her of home.

Sure, Amity wasn't nearly as crowded as this, but the people were all friendly and the air was almost always chilly and the stars always seemed to fight against the city lights. Lacelia was Valerie and that giant billboard was Danny and she was herself, always wandering, always alone, with the wonders of the world all stored inside her crowded mind. There wasn't much left for Danielle to see.

Danielle headed down another dark alleyway, hid behind a long forgotten trash bin, and reached deep inside her for the ever-present chill of her ghost core.

Damn Vlad for not giving her a coat. It was cold wearing that black and white crop top.

Danielle took off, dodged a few of the taller buildings lazily, and then headed speedily in the direction of America. She had family waiting for her back in Amity. She didn't have to be lonesome.

She was heading home.

* * *

 _this one is really short and i'm sorry about that. i'm hoping to get out a few more dannymay days today so i apologize for the length._

 _as i always say, please review ! i love hearing your comments or concerns or whatever the hell you wanna share with me. i love love love it. please review._

 _also, as a side note, summer just started for me ! i'm going to be babysitting for the majority of the summer but hopefully i'll be able to take my laptop and write a lot more than i have been able to this school year. for those of you that read fit for a king: i_ promise _that it's coming back ! this month has just been rly hectic for me with dannymay and all. that story will keep going as soon as i finish up the last of these dannymay days._

 _thank you for reading and being patient with me. i really appreciate it._

 _xx_


	9. talking to cute girls is hard

If you asked her, Valerie Gray would say she was used to getting weird ass customers. I mean, you'd have to be a _little_ weird to walk into a tiny coffee shop that's right across the street from the literal Nasty Burger. Usually they just got fanfiction-writing nerds and book worms that were too preoccupied with reading to even glance at the cup of coffee that they absentmindedly ordered. Every so often Valerie would find someone she used to be friends with in highschool standing on the seat to get a better picture of their perfectly arranged bagel and foamy cup of coffee before taking a sip and a bite and walking back out the door. And then there was that guy that stopped in every Saturday morning and just sat by the window, staring out with a glazed sort of look in his eyes. Oh, and Valerie couldn't forget that old couple that only spoke in whispers and sent death glares toward Nasty Burger, discussing in whispers about how bad that place was for your health.

Yeah, Espresso Patronum was certainly a hotspot for weirdos. Valerie was 99.9% sure that she had seen it all.

And then, one day, a girl walked in.

Her long, wavy black hair, which would easily reach her butt if put down, was pulled into a high ponytail with a bright blue hair band that matched her eye color exquisitely. Her white shirt very clearly read " _drop dead gorgeous_ " and was accompanied by a tiny cartoon ghost. She was wearing baggy gray sweatpants and Christmas-colored slippers that clashed horribly but somehow just _worked_ for her, and, when she moved to find a seat, Valerie caught sight of a tiny cartoon ghost tattooed on the inside of her elbow.

Valerie felt her heart skip a beat, because _holy_ shit _that girl was hot._

Cedric, who had started working at Espresso Patronum because he thought the irony was "fucking hilarious," walked out from behind the counter, straightened his apron, and started heading towards the girl. Valerie pushed him out of the way and pulled out her little notebook with practiced ease.

"Good afternoon; my name's Valerie. What can I get for you today?" she recited, pushing a strand of curly brown hair out of her face and ignoring Cedric's incoherent sounds of anger from behind. Now that she was closer, Val could clearly see tiny freckles dotting her cheeks and nose and a healthy blush lighting her skin. She had multiple earrings in, all of which were simple studs, and a tiny little crystal nose piercing that was almost impossible to spot unless you studied her as closely as Valerie was studying her at that exact moment. The girl, who was easily eighteen, by Valerie's calculations, glanced up at the sound of Val's voice. Her eyes sparkled in the dim café light.

"Holy shit; you're hot. I'll have a slice of you and also a double espresso, please."

Valerie was so shell-shocked that she dropped her notepad on the floor. She was sure that her entire face was glowing red.

"Ok, maybe not the slice of you. Was that too straightforward? That was too straightforward. Sorry, I don't really have a filter. Name's Danielle, by the way, but everyone calls me Dani. Nice to meet you, Valerie."

Valerie was still frozen to the spot, jaw unhinged in utter shock. Cedric had to come up behind her to pull her away from the scene.

"God, you're horrible with hot girls. This is why you shoulda let _me_ handle it." He whispered, steering her towards the kitchen. "Do you even remember what she ordered?"

"She called me hot."

"Wow, of course she's gay. Great. Perfect. Why would the only hot girl that walks in here be straight? No offense, Val."

"She ordered a double espresso."

"I just mean to say that you're not my type, I mean, I see you more as a sister, I just—"

"Cedric?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up before I break your nose."

"Double espresso coming right up."

Valerie straightened her apron self consciously. God, she had completely _froze_ out there! She fought ghosts in her free time and _she couldn't even look the cute girl at the café in the eye!_ She blew a curl out of her face. Wasn't she supposed to be good at this?

Valerie glanced over at Danielle, who was interesting herself in the sugar cube bowl situated in the center of the table. She popped a sugar cube in her mouth and clicked her nails against the table distractedly.

"Here's the double espresso, Val," Cedric said, coming up behind her.

"I thought you liked Dani?"

"Val, she's gay, you're gay."

"I'm bi."

"Irrelevant. You guys are, like, that perfect homosexual match."

Valerie glared at him.

"Go get her, tiger."

Val sighed, straightened her apron again, and headed over to Danielle's table. Fuck, she was _shaking._ Her heart felt like it was pounding out of her chest.

Talking to pretty girls was so much harder than fighting ghosts, Valerie decided.

"Here's your order," she said, trying to steady her hand to set the espresso on the table.

"Sit with me?" Dani queried.

"What?"

"Would you like to sit with me?"

"Uh, I'm kinda working…" Valerie trailed off, glancing behind her at Cedric.

"JUST SIT DOWN, DAMMIT," Cedric yelled across the room, startling a boy in the corner wearing giant glasses and reading a rather thick book. His coffee splashed onto the table and Cedric rushed to help, sending a thumbs up towards Valerie whilst simultaneously apologizing.

 _I hate that boy,_ Valerie decided, sliding into the booth opposite Danielle.

"That your boyfriend?" Dani asked.

"Oh, hell no," Val answered, eyes widening a fraction. "He's way too much work."

"Thank God. For a second I thought you were straight."

"Just because I'm not into Cedric doesn't mean I'm gay," Valerie argued, sending Danielle a look that was both confused and a bit angry. She had a habit of hiding her fear behind an angry façade.

"Am I wrong?"

Valerie said nothing.

Dani laughed, throwing her head back. Strands of baby hair that had been tucked behind her ears spilled forth, gently framing her face. "You can't fool me, Valerie. You travel the world and you learn some stuff about homosexuals."

"That's not at all what I thought you learned while travelling the world. Besides, aren't a bit young for that?"

"For what? Adventure? Bullshit. I just got back from Australia like," Dani glanced at the clock over the store door, "thirty minutes ago."

"And the first thing you did when you got home was go to a Harry Potter themed café?" Val queried, crinkling her nose.

"I happen to be a fan of Harry Potter, thank you very much."

"Didn't tack you as a nerd, Dani."

"Didn't tack you as a bitch, Val." Danielle stuck her tongue out at that and then proceeded to hide her smile behind her coffee cup.

Valerie felt her fear ebb away. It was so damn _easy_ to talk to her.

"Hey, don't do that." Danielle said suddenly.

"Do what?"

"That grin thing."

"Why the hell can't I grin?"

"'Cus it's fucking cute! I just wanted a cup of coffee, dammit."

Valerie snorted. "Maybe you shouldn't have called me hot."

"Maybe you shouldn't have _been_ hot," Dani retorted, sipping her drink. "Ow, fuck!"  
"What?"  
"I burnt ma tangue," she answered, letting her tongue flop out of her mouth. "I'm ganna thue."

"You're gonna what?"

"Thue! I'm ganna thue!"

"Say that again, please?" Valerie was trying her damndest not to smile and, yet, still managing to fail miserably.

"Thuck you!"

Valerie burst into a fit of laughter, her hand coming down to smack the table. Dani glared, tongue still sticking out, a grin lifting the corners of her lips.

And then Valerie heard Danielle gasp lightly and looked up just in time to see concern twist her features.

"Fuck me," she whispered, tongue back in her mouth.

"What?"

"I gotta go."

"Where?"

"My, uh, cousin wanted to meet up with me after I landed and I totally forgot." Danielle stood. "How much do I owe you?"

"It's on the house," Valerie insisted, standing as well. She was surprised at the sudden cut in conversation and found herself missing it already. "Well, I guess I'll see yo—"

"Hold up. Gimme your pen."

"My what?"

"The pen that's in your apron pocket, ya goob." Danielle glanced out the window, searched the sky with one quick sweep of her eyes, and smirked at Valerie.

"Oh! Here." She passed it over.

Dani rolled her eyes, reached across the table, and grabbed Valerie's wrist. She wrote down a collection of numbers and finished it with a little cartoon ghost, which was something that Valerie had started associating with her.

"Call me later, okay?"

It wasn't until then that Valerie realized that that collection of numbers was Danielle's phone number. "Oh. Oh! Okay!"

"See ya."

"Bye!"

Danielle rushed out the door with a small little wave, the bell dinging softly as she left.

"You scare her off?" Cedric asked, coming up behind Valerie.

"I got her number."

"Really? That fast? That's impressive. What'd she run off for, then?"

"She had to see her cousin."

Cedric snorted. "That sounds suspiciously fake. I'm honestly confused whether she wants to talk to you or she was just trying to get away from you."

Valerie turned on her heel, coming face to face with Cedric. "Hey, shut it! I'm sure she was just busy."

And then a ghost came straight through the opposite wall and landed with a crash behind the counter, followed by a black and white blur.

 _Phantom._

"Oh, would you look at the time, Cedric! I gotta go!"

"Your shift doesn't end for another two hours!"

Valerie was already out the door, hiding behind a trash bin beside the café, and letting the cool metal that made up her suit envelope her entire body through tiny openings in her wrists and ankles.

She grinned from underneath her mask.

A cute girl gave her her number and now she got to kick some ghost's ass. She decided to mark today off as a good day.

Valerie jumped and her hover board popped out from the bottom of her shoes. She couldn't think about that right now. That black and white blur just _had_ to be Phantom.

 _Duty calls._

* * *

 _first off, i'd like to say that this isnt one of my better works. i read through it and its pretty choppy and rushed and just not very good. i realized i was edging towards 2,000 words and i tried to stop real fast. i dont have time to get too invested in dannymay oneshots ! so yeah, i'm sorry. if it eases your inevitable need for more whatsoever, the black and white blur is actually danielle and there was probably a reveal somewhere in there in which valerie freaked the fuck out and cedric cowered behind the counter, idk. it's up to your imagination! i'm sorry. i actually am. i'm just trying to finish up writing thESE FRICKING DANNYMAY FICS SO I CAN GET BACK TO FFAK BC I MISS IT_

 _review fucker_

 _xx_


	10. the ghost of grandpa bernie

Danny had never really noticed, in all honesty. Freshly dead people created freshly born ghosts, and while most of those ghosts headed to the Ghost Zone on blind impulse, some got stuck or stayed because of certain engagements that had to be handled before continuing to the next realm.

Of course, at fourteen and as a new member of the Ghost Zone (though only partly), Danny wasn't educated on this kind of stuff. He wasn't even sure what the purpose of ectoplasm was. It was all just a big, unsolved mystery.

Therefore, when he noticed a few more people travelling the streets than usual, most with rather blank stares, he thought nothing of it. The thought that those people might be _ghosts_ genuinely never passed through his mind.

So, when Danny headed off to Grandpa Bernie's funeral, tugging uncomfortably at the too-tight tie wrapped around his neck, he had to bite back a scream when the person in the open casket was also standing solemnly at the front, as alive-looking as ever.

No one seemed to notice. In fact, as Danny openly stared, he watched the priest travel straight through Grandpa Bernie's body. Both Bernie and Danny shivered rather uncomfortably, though Bernie shivered from the sensation of someone travelling through him and Danny shivered at the sudden drop of temperature in the room.

Then Bernie's and Danny's eyes locked, and Bernie raised an eyebrow in a sort of amused befuddlement.

He and his Grandpa stared at each other for the remainder of the funeral, and, as Danny walked up to pay his respects to the cold corpse resting in the coffin, he felt a chilly hand come to rest on his shoulder.

"I can touch you," came Grandpa Bernie's deep voice from behind, tinged with excitement. He sounded healthier than he had ever been in Danny's fourteen years. "I wasn't aware that you were a medium, Daniel."

"I wasn't either," Danny muttered into his clasped palms. The people around him thought nothing of the incoherent whispers, chalking it up to the boy saying his last few words to his grandpa before departing. "This is kind of new to me."

"New to you?" Grandpa Bernie crouched beside him, bright blue eyes searching matching ones. It was easy to see where Danny got his messy hair and twinkling eye color. Grandpa Bernie's hair was only a few shades darker than Phantom's.

Danny sighed, resting his forehead against his thumbs and closing his tired eyes. Even quieter than before, he responded, "There was a lab accident. I'm part ghost now. I guess seeing you is a side effect or something."

Grandpa Bernie scoffed unbelievingly and gently lifted Danny's chin with his forefinger, staring intently into Danny's soul. "That's impossible."

"I thought so, too." Now, this close to his Grandpa, Danny's eyes began to well with tears. The stress of the situation and the knowledge that his grandfather was lost to the human plane was too much to take at that moment, and a single tear slid down his cheek and landed silently on his too-big tie. Grandpa Bernie's cold thumb brushed against Danny's cheek. He used to be so warm.

"But you're alright?" Bernie queried, frown twisting the laugh wrinkles on the corners of his eyes. His right dimple revealed itself, though only slightly.

Danny breathed out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. "I'm fine. I'm learning more about myself every day."

Grandpa Bernie smiled brightly, his right dimple coming out fully now. His eyes crinkled. "That's good. That's so good, Danny. I see _so_ much greatness in your heart."

It was Danny's turn to smile, though tears still stained his cheeks in lines. Grandpa Bernie wrapped both of his cold hands around Danny's clasped ones, so close to his face that their noses could touch. "You're going to do amazing things. I love you very, very much."

"I love you, too." In the moment, Danny forgot to whisper his words. A few adults glanced in his direction and sent him pitiful glances before looking away, sorrowful tears in their eyes.

Grandpa Bernie stood, helped Danny up from his kneeling position, and brought him into a hug that Danny wasn't able to return for fear of strange looks and questioning parents. Bernie pulled away, held tightly onto Danny's shoulders, and took in the details of his grandson's face. "Wow."

"What?" Danny whispered, cheeks burning under his gaze.

"You're so handsome. Just like me."

Danny exhaled amusedly.

"Take care of your parents. Take care of your sister. Take care of your town, Danny. You're capable of _amazing_ things. I know it."

"I'm gonna miss you, Grandpa." Danny breathed.

"Nonsense. I'll be right here." Bernie patted Danny's chest. "In your heart."

And then, with one last reassuring, love-filled grin, Bernie dissipated into the air and the weight of his large palms on Danny's shoulders fell away.

Danny couldn't stop the wide, watery smile on his face as he and his family exited the church.

Everything was going to be okay.

* * *

 _im kinda proud of this one just because i liked writing grandpa bernie. YES im aware hes an oc but i dont rly care that much i need to protect grandpa bernie god bless him_

 _also i feel like danny would just be kinda depressed and self conscious following the first month after the incident which TOTALLY shows in the first episode so hey ! a little comfort from a loved one that isn't tucker or sam_

 _hope u liked it. also, if you've read the first nine oneshots and youRE JUST SUPER CONFUSED, im rly sorry. this was for my benefit (i was getting confused and all the oneshots permeating my account was making me feel unorganized and anxious) every dannymay oneshot i make from this day forward should be on this story and shouldn't be reuploads. once again, i apologize._

 _once again, review. yesterday i believe i said 'review fucker' and thAT WAS in nO WAY ATTACKING ANYONE I WAs JUST ReALLY TIRED AND I MAKE JOKES LIKE tHAT PLEASE DONT TAKE OFFENSE AND IF YOU ALrEADY HAVE AND ITS TOO LATE IM SORRY I HAD NO menTAL CAPACity LEFT I WAS SO TIRED_

 _xx_


	11. sunsets and skyscrapers

Valerie Gray was 95% sure she was having a panic attack. No, 96%. 97%. The percentage glowing on her helmet on the sides of her vision underneath _chance that you are currently having a panic attack_ was steadily rising.

Great. _Great._ Yesterday evening had left her suit bonded with her body and her heart in her throat. _How was this even possible?_

She was a freak. A monster. Ordinary people just didn't _have_ tiny slits on their wrists and ankles that emitted liquid metal when she felt vulnerable or defensive.

This was insane. The whole concept was absolutely insane. She didn't know who to go to.

So she found herself pacing on the top of a skyscraper at sunset, cumulous clouds so low in the sky that she could reach up and touch them with her gloved hand if she so wished. Her boots clacked against the flat roof with a metallic tink. The sound only added to her growing anxiety.

If anyone found out about this, her identity as the Red Huntress wouldn't just be out to her father, but would be out to _everyone in town._ She couldn't have that. She couldn't have people knowing who she really was.

But how in the hell was she supposed to control this suit? And where did all her weapons go? She already knew that her hover board ran in streams of liquid metal down her feet and solidified into a technological flying surfboard when she felt fidgety or wanted to run. Valerie had discovered that last night when her thought-heavy mind caused it to form underneath her covers.

It had taken her another hour to calm down enough for the hover board to melt back into liquid and travel in gravity defying streams back up her feet and into the slits resting just above her ankle. She'd tried desperately to repeat the process in order to get to the top of skyscraper but, upon the suit's resistance to her orders, she ended up riding the elevator and walking through the roof door instead.

Valerie jumped when a voice from behind said, "Okay, ghost, let's make this quick. Dad just ordered pizza and all I've had today is a wrapped Tootsie Roll that someone dropped outside Kum and Go— _Valerie?"_

She twisted on her heel, hover board suddenly appearing beneath her feet. Oh, so _now_ it works. _Peachy._

"Phantom," she growled, her helmet technology already analyzing the ghost before her. _**ABNORMALITY**_ flashed before her eyes, but she was too preoccupied to really give it any thought. Of course he was an abnormality; he was a ghost, after all!

"I thought you were a ghost," Phantom breathed, looking utterly confused. He tapped his foot distractedly. "My ghost sense went off and _everything._ Oh wait. Oh shit. The Technus thing. Val, you aren't… _dead,_ are you?"

Valerie recoiled in shock at his words. "What? No! That's insane! Are you kidding? No! And don't call me Val!" She wished she could stop the conversation and fire at Phantom, but her lack of knowledge on how to get weapons left her unarmed and, honestly, she was too scared to fly away. What if the hover board disappeared and she fell?

"You're sure?" Phantom queried, dark eyebrow quirked.

"Yes, I'm fucking sure!" She spat.

Phantom tapped his index finger to his chin in thought. "Okay, so not dead. That's good, I guess. Valerie, has anything weird happened to you since yesterday?"

Valerie remained silent, her hateful gaze intense.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

She barked out a fake laugh, head tilted back. "Help? As if you'd help me, _ghost."_

Phantom frowned. It was weird seeing such a serious expression on his usually goofy, shit-eating face.

As the silence stretched on, the sun sinking lower, Valerie couldn't help herself. The words that had echoed in her brain flowed freely out of her mouth before her brain could catch up. "Everything weird is happening to me, dammit! There's these fucking _cuts_ on my ankles and on my wrists and they just randomly _leak_ liquid metal that _turns into my fucking suit_ and I have absolutely _no_ fucking idea how to control it!" Her hover board disappeared underneath her, travelling up her boots and sinking into the suit. She hit the ground, stumbled, and managed to stay upright. "You see! You fucking _see!_ What the hell am I supposed to _do?_ "

Valerie looked up, hoping desperately for a response that would make perfect sense and end all her issues, but none came. Phantom was staring her down in absolute shock, jaw unhinged. Then, unexpectedly, the ghost broke down in a fit of giggles.

 _"What's so funny?!"_ Valerie demanded, eyes alight with internal flame.

Phantom was doubled over, cackling uncontrollably. He opened his mouth and tried to speak, but all that came out was an incoherent jumble of syllables before he fell to his knees and pounded on the roof, laughing with fresh vigor.

Valerie felt her ears go red in embarrassment. She stomped towards him, fully intent on smacking him across his smug face, when a tiny weapon materialized on her wrist and a ray of red energy hit Phantom in the head and sent him flying across the roof.

'Ow, Jesus!" Phantom yelled, rubbing at his head. A steady stream of ectoplasm ran onto his forehead and slid down his nose when he looked up at her.

"Oh my God. Oh my God." The wrist ray fell into liquid once more and melted back into her suit. Gulping back her sudden surprise and replacing it with fury, she stomped her boot and clenched her fists. "It's not _funny!_ "

"Okay! Lord! Don't throw a temper tantrum!" Phantom rubbed at the spot where he was hit, glancing down at his green-stained glove and grimacing. "I'm not gonna help you if you throw a fit!"

Valerie crossed her arms, restlessly tapping her fingers against them. " _You're_ gonna help _me?"_

"Would you stop saying that? Yes, I'm gonna help you!"

Valerie hummed disbelievingly but said nothing.

Phantom dropped his hand from his head to his neck and let it drape there. "I thought it was funny because I went through the same thing when I, uh, died. I didn't know how to control my powers, like, at all. I fell through my bed while I was sleeping more times than I can count."

"Ghosts don't sleep," Valerie muttered.

Phantom continued on his spiel. "It just takes some time and practice, that's all. Here, try to summon your hover board again."

"Like I'd take orders from you." Valerie spat.

Phantom shrugged. "Okay, then. The roof door is locked, by the way. It always locks from the outside. Good luck getting down!" Danny turned, preparing to fly off.

"Wait!" Valerie shouted, panic-stricken. She was _not_ spending the night up there. Sighing, arms still crossed, she muttered, "How do I summon it?"

Phantom landed, expression smug. "When I summon an ectoblast," he started, holding up his palm. Ectoplasm swirled around it, lighting the darkening roof in green. "I focus on the emotion. You can't _order_ your powers around. They're connected to your emotions, so just … think about the emotion you feel when it shows up. Oh wait, no! Think about how you feel when you fly. I mean, you had a hover board before, right? Hypothetically, it should work. That's how it works for me, anyway."

Valerie blinked. "What?"

"Just think about how you feel when you fly, okay? Focus on your feet and feel that emotion and it _should_ show up."

" _Should?_ "

"Just do it."

Valerie huffed and closed her eyes, stopping the incessant tapping on her forearm. What did she feel when she was flying? Well, she felt the air tugging at the fabric of her suit, but that wasn't an emotion. So what the hell did she feel? She usually only flew after ghosts, and she felt hatred when she fought them. She focused on hatred, crinkling her nose in determination, and cracked open an eye to peek at her feet in hope.

No hover board.

"This is idiotic," she said, throwing her hands into the air. "It's not working!"

"You're probably just thinking about the wrong thing, Val! Try again."

She glared. "Don't call me Val."

Phantom rolled his eyes.

Valerie thought harder, looking down at her feet and then at the setting sun. What did she feel?

She felt rushing wind. She saw the sky. She saw the little people underneath. She saw birds flying beside her and she felt wind tug at her hair when she took off her helmet.

Valerie felt…free.

 _Free._

Liquid metal pooled around her feet and her hover board formed, lifting her off the ground and humming gently.

She let out a whoop of surprise and satisfaction but ended up getting so excited that it turned back to liquid and she fell back onto the roof.

"Hey, I did it!" Valerie shouted, turning to Phantom with a smile. "I actually did it!"

Phantom had taken a seat by the edge of the roof, sitting cross-legged and facing her. "You're welcome."

Her ecstasy turned to half-hearted annoyance in a millisecond. "I never said thank you."

"It was implied." He grinned wider.

Valerie practiced summoning her hover board until it became second nature and easier than she could have imagined. The sun was almost fully down, turning the sky dark purple. She swung her legs over the edge of the skyscraper and took a seat next to Phantom, who had been giving her pointers the entire time. Together, in mutual silence, they watched the sun disappear entirely.

 _Maybe Phantom isn't half bad,_ Valerie thought. She didn't voice it, though. Rather, she sat, kicking her legs absentmindedly.

And then, as she went over her time on the roof for the hundredth time, she realized something. "Ghosts eat?"

Phantom startled at the sound of her voice. "Uh, why do you ask?"

"Because earlier, when you thought I was someone else, you told me that your mom had ordered pizza and that all you'd had today was a Tootsie Roll."

"Oh." Phantom rubbed at the back of his neck anxiously. Valerie had a sudden sense of déjà vu, but wrote it off as nothing. "I was hoping you wouldn't remember that."

"So you eat human food? And you have a ghost mom? And do ghosts have like, ghost Pizza Hut or something?"

"Sure, let's go with that."

" _Phantom,_ " Valerie pressed, curiosity getting the better of her. Vaguely, she realized it was the first time she'd called him by his actual name since he arrived.

"Um, so, uh," Phantom coughed, his hand still anxiously rubbing the back of his neck. His palm came around and started rubbing at his collar bone instead. "My, uh, my parents are still alive."

Valerie's eyebrows furrowed. "So they just let you hang around, then? Even though they know you're a ghost?"

Phantom wouldn't meet Valerie's gaze. He became extremely fidgety. "They, uh, um, uh, they don't know I'm a ghost."

Valerie was standing in a second. _"WHAT?!"_

Phantom flinched and curled in on himself a bit, which was odd. He never really did that.

"But—but how? How do they not know? I mean," she gesticulated wildly at him. "It's _kinda_ obvious!"

"I _may_ or _may not_ be able to alter my appearance."

"You're kidding."

Phantom huffed. "I wish I was."

"You gotta tell them, Phantom."

"Val, you don't get it. They'd _kill_ me. Literally. Like, they would _actually_ kill me."

"Ghosts are already dead."

Phantom said nothing. He still wouldn't meet Valerie's eyes.

"So, what? You just waltz around pretending to be human?"

"I don't _pretend_ to be human."

"What else would you call it, Phantom?" Valerie screeched. She felt angry, though she wasn't sure why. "You just… Do you go to school? Oh my God, do I _know_ you? Like, have I _met_ you before?"

Phantom said nothing. He was staring at his feet, which were still hanging off the side of the building.

"I do," Valerie whispered. "Seriously? I do?"

"Yeah," he muttered.

Valerie gulped. "Out with it, then."

Phantom looked up. It was the first time he made eye contact since this conversation started, and he looked _absolutely_ terrified. " _What?!_ "

"You know my secret identity. I think I deserve to know yours."

"Valerie, no, God no, no, oh my God no that's out of the question."

"Phantom, I have to _know._ You can't say something like that and then expect me to move on from it! You legitimately just told me that someone I know is _dead!_ I can't just—you can't—"

"I'm not dead!" Phantom yelled. Tears brimmed his eyes. "I'm not…I'm not dead."

Silence pursued.

"That's a joke," Valerie whispered. "You're joking."

"It happened two years ago," he started, breaking eye contact once more. "I was fourteen. My friend got me to go into one of my parent's lab experiments and it electrocuted me. My DNA got messed up and I guess I was infused with ectoplasm or something. I'm not a scientist; I don't know the details."

Valerie's head was spinning. Two years ago. Fourteen. "What season?"

"In the fall."

Valerie gulped. Two years ago, in the fall, when _she_ was fourteen, Danny Fenton hadn't gone to school for two and a half weeks straight. She only noticed because Mr. Lancer was only giving them vague "he's sick" responses and Dash was complaining the entire time about not having his favorite punching bag around.

In seconds, her entire world came crashing down.

Danny _Fenton._ Danny _Phantom._ It made too much sense. It made no sense at all.

Valerie looked down at him. They looked the same. They talked the same. And that hand thing that Phantom did? It wasn't until now that she realized that Fenton did the _exact same thing._

"No way. No way." Valerie backed away, boots clicking gently against the roof.

"Valerie…"

"No way. You can't be Danny Fenton. You can't."

Phantom, no, Fenton, no, _Danny_ stood. He started walking towards her. "Val, please, you gotta listen—"

"I'm not listening to _anything_ you say!" Valerie screeched. She tripped on her own feet and landed hard on the ground. "No! _No!_ "

Danny Fenton was her friend. Danny Phantom was her enemy

Had she been shooting at her friend this entire time?

 _Had she been wrong?_

"Valerie, please!" A tear slipped out of Phantom's eye. They flashed blue.

That was Danny Fenton's blue. Those were Danny Fenton's eyes.

"This isn't real. _This isn't real."_ Valerie climbed to her feet, breathing so heavily that her breath was fogging the glass of her suit.

Phantom grabbed onto her wrist.

"Let _go_ of me, freak!"

Danny faltered. In his shock, Valerie ripped away. Her hover board formed underneath her and she was up and off the roof in a millisecond, flying away at top speed.

She didn't look back.

This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be real. No way. _No way._ First the suit thing and now _this._

Valerie was crying. She hardly noticed.

Danny Phantom was Danny Fenton. Her friend. Her enemy. Her crush. Her bane.

And somewhere, deep down, Valerie had always known.

She had just been too afraid to admit it to herself.

* * *

 _first off, i'd like to point out that all of my dannymay oneshots are around 1,000 words long. this one? 2,544 words. im not joking. i got so carried away you don't even know. i mean, it's not like that's a_ lot, _i've honestly written so much more, but i'm trying to keep all the oneshots short so i can get through these oneshots faster and 2,500+ is_ not _short. its medium-sized-ish. so you're welcome_

 _second, i love these two. i love valerie gray so much. and i'm sure half of you are like, "this doesn't go with day eleven's theme! day eleven is gray/colors!" well, guess what? gray. valerie gray. yeah. i kinda stretched on that one, but i_ really _love valerie and i just had to do one like this. i_ had _to._

 _also, the reveal was entirely unintentional. it just sorta happened._

 _(also, i couldn't figure out where to fit this bit of information in since val lost her suit like was originally planned. she's not a ghost. her suit is infused with ghost power. so, when danny's ghost sense went off, it was sensing her suit, not her. when her suit is put away danny can't sense her)_ remember to review. i'm a tired old 15 year old girl that needs validation xx 


	12. comfort

Sometimes, late at night, Danny swore that he could hear his voice echoing through the darkness of his room.

Dan's voice.

It plagued his nightmares and kept him wide awake, staring upwards at the same faded, peeling glow-in-the-dark stars that he had stared at since he was five years old.

The familiarity of it did little to calm his nerves, though. In those stars, connected like constellations, he saw Dan's face. He saw the outline of his jaw, the gleam of his fangs, and the flame in his eyes.

Danny took the stars down, but they left marks of whiter paint against the dirty ceiling.

He just couldn't get rid of him. His laugh pierced his eardrums mercilessly, sending him to the ground in momentary mind numbing pain on the worst nights. At night, he dreamed of ruined buildings and the faces of murdered innocents. The dead, broken bodies of his family and friends were a common occurrence. Dan would materialize in front of him, he'd become nose to nose with his worst enemy and greatest fear, and then Dan's chilling voice would remind him of something that he didn't need reminded of. The thought never, ever left his mind.

 _"I'm inevitable."_

Danny started sleeping with a night light. He tried drowning his dreams in fuzzy blankets and pillows. He even tried eating healthier, as Jazz so helpfully suggested.

Dan never left. He was always there.

 _"I'm inevitable."_

He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised when, two weeks later, Tucker pointed out what had been gnawing at the back of his mind for a while. "Dude, are you okay?"

"Stellar," Danny answered, slamming his locker door shut. He offered Tucker a weak smile, who frowned in response.

"Your eye bags are big enough to carry my geometry book," Tucker stated, reaching out a hand to squeeze Danny's shoulder. "What's going on?"

"Late night ghost hunting, that's all." Danny tried to sidle past him but was quickly stopped.

"Jazz told me you're still having issues with that Dan thing."

Danny tensed. _That Dan thing._ Like it wasn't that big of a deal.

Tucker wouldn't understand. He _couldn't_ understand. He'd forgotten everything from that alternate timeline. God, how he wished he could forget just the same.

"It's just some nightmares. Nothing to worry about."

"Bro." Tucker shook his head. "You're not eating. You're not sleeping. You hardly ever _talk_ anymore. 'Just some nightmares' doesn't even cover it. I need you to tell me everything, okay?"

"K."

"I'm serious, Danny! I'm worried about you!"

Danny couldn't meet his eyes. He couldn't let him know just how much pain he was in.

He couldn't let Tucker worry.

"I'm sorry, buddy. It's just stressing me out, is all."

"Well, it's over." Tucker said, slapping Danny on the back and steering him in the direction of the lunchroom. "Sam and I are here for you if you need to talk. _When_ you need to talk. We care about you, Danny. We don't like seeing you like this."

"What is this, a support group?" Danny mumbled, trying to distract from the conversation at hand.

"You know damn well that I'll throw your ass in a support group if you don't get better soon."

"You make it sound like I'm sick."

"We don't think you're sick, Danny."

"No. Just mentally unsound."

Tucker huffed but didn't respond. He continued steering Danny towards the lunch room and into the lunch line, where they got their food in silence and sat down at their usual circular lunch table. Sam was already there, salad spread before her. She looked up when Danny and Tucker sat across from her.

"So, Danny," Sam said through a mouthful of salad. She swallowed quickly. "What's goin' on?"

"Oh, you know, same old same old."

"Bullshit," Tucker muttered, fork clenched in his hand.

"Tucker!" Sam chastised, but he persisted.

"Why can't you just _talk_ to us, Danny? You used to talk to us all the time! What the hell happened?"

"I grew up," Danny snapped. Then, reigning in his anger, he looked down at his tray and spun his fork in the school's spaghetti distractedly. "I just…you wouldn't understand."

"Help us understand." Sam said, but her voice wasn't angry or demanding. How she was staying calm when Tucker wasn't, Danny wasn't sure.

Danny continued to stare down at his plate. The spaghetti sauce suddenly looked very much like blood, and he pushed it away from him distastefully. "It's complicated."

"Everything in your life is complicated, Danny. It's been complicated since freshman year. That's why we're here." Sam looked as though she wanted to reach out and grab Danny's hand, but she restrained herself. "To help. We'll always be here to help."

He knew she was right. He knew that Tucker was right to be angry and the both of them were right to be concerned and worried. So, with a loud exhale through his nose that blew his napkin across the table, Danny began to explain in a voice so low it was almost incoherent. Sam had to lean in to hear him properly. "I see him, Sam. I see him every night. He's on my bedroom walls and he's in my head. I can't stop thinking about him."

"Dan?" Tucker whispered.

Danny gulped and nodded once. "I see dead people in my nightmares. I see destruction. And I see Dan, over and over again, telling me that I'm going to become him. That he's inevitable. That there's no stopping him." He huffed out a laugh, though there was nothing humorous about the situation. "You guys must think I'm insane."

"Oh, God," Tucker muttered. "Danny, I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Sam queried hopefully, eyes wide.

Danny studied his hands. They were shaking. "You can stay away from me."

"What?" Tucker and Sam yelled in unison, causing multiple heads in their vicinity to turn. Danny didn't speak once more until every last person grew bored of the trio and looked away.

"If…If Dan _is_ inevitable, if I _am_ going to become him…"

"Nonsense, Danny," said Sam.

"You won't. You're stronger than that," said Tucker.

"I don't want you guys getting in the line of fire. I don't…I don't know what I'd do if you guys got hurt."

"Danny, we're staying by your side. _No matter what,_ " Sam said, determination lighting her lavender eyes.

"Sam, I—"

"Sleepover at my house tonight. Tucker, bring that giant blue blanket that feels like heaven. Danny, bring those rocket pajamas you love. We're gonna marathon Doctor Who until our eyes fall out."

"I really don't think that's a good idea—"

"Okay, so we'll stop by Tucker's house together since his house is the closet, and then we'll all go and get Danny's stuff and then head off to my house. We can stop at the gas station and get a bunch of junk food, too."

"Got it." Tucker nodded his head, Sam's determination and ferocity echoing in his own eyes.

"Does my opinion matter _at all?_ " Danny asked, growing rather annoyed.

"Nope, not really." Tucker grinned. "Look, whether you want to admit it or not, you need this. We all do. And don't you _dare_ think about ditching, Daniel Fenton. We have Fenton Thermoses and we're not afraid to use them."

And that's how Danny ended up in Sam's theatre, sandwiched between his two best friends in a pair of fuzzy astronaut pajamas and surrounded by popcorn and Starburst wrappers. He fell asleep before they even got through the second episode of Doctor Who.

It was the first night in weeks that he slept soundly.

* * *

 _so i got out three dannymay oneshots today ! DAB DAB DAB DAB DAB_

 _i literally hate myself like i wouldn't be this stressed if i would've just kept up with it but nOPE_

 _((also you know i can't just write angst with no happy endings. i'm a sucker for supportive friends and healthy relationships, man.))_

 _ps review pls_

xx


	13. salamander the fourth

Dash Baxter would be lying if he said he hadn't screeched like a sissy when he climbed out his window and saw a ghost sitting on his favorite rooftop spot.

The ghost in question, who had shoulder-length blonde hair and giant platform boots, didn't even flinch at the sound of Dash's voice. Rather, he turned, sent Baxter a two-fingered salute, and then turned back towards the falling sun without a word.

"What the hell are you doing up here?" Dash finally spoke, still shaking like a leaf. He was nursing a growing bruise on his forearm and was not, under any circumstances, prepared to kick a ghost off his roof. But he also wasn't prepared to go back inside, where sounds of his father's screaming voice sounded from Dash's still-open window.

The ghost hummed and jabbed his thumb in the direction of the window without looking back. "I'm here to beat the shit out of your old man."

"What?"

"Is there an issue?"

Dash sat down, though only because he was afraid of tumbling two stories down into the petunias. "Uh, yeah! You can't fight my dad. That's . . . that's not okay."

"And that nasty bruise on your arm is?" The ghost turned to face him and Dash noticed the spray of freckles across his cheeks and the stubble on his chin. He extended a fingerless-gloved hand. "Name's Johnny 13."

"Dash Baxter." He wearily took the hand and they shook awkwardly. His nerves slowly ebbed away upon realization that the ghost in front of him, Johnny, wasn't there to hurt him. Dash sighed. He still couldn't let him hurt his dad, though.

"So what's your old man mad about this time?" Johnny asked, picking distractedly at his nails.

"He's just drunk," Dash responded quietly. "He'll get over it."

Johnny snorted. "Yeah. That's what I thought too, Baxter. And then my old man killed me."

"He what?!" Dash straightened, suddenly keenly aware of the familiar shattering sound of a bottle breaking.

The ghost huffed, offering a little grin that didn't quite meet his eyes. "Yeah. He didn't mean too. 'He was just drunk,' right, Baxter? Like your dad is right now."

"How'd it happen?"

Johnny sighed and fidgeted. It was obviously a subject he was uncomfortable with. "He started screamin' at my mom. Told her he was gonna leave and take me with him, so he grabbed me by the wrist and put me on the back of his motorcycle and started driving away. Hey, surprise, surprise, driving drunk on a motorcycle isn't typically a good idea. He smashed into the side of a bridge."

Johnny pulled back his gray jacket, revealing an ugly purple and yellow bruise that wrapped around his wrist like a bracelet. "Now I get to wear this reminder around for the rest of eternity."

Dash was silent for a bit. "Jeez, man. That really sucks."

"Eh, it's whatever. I got my girl Kitty and I got my old man's motorcycle. And my mom is back in Jackson growing old with someone that's way better than my dad ever was."

"You're not mad about dying?" Dash asked, surprise lifting his eyebrows and widening his eyes.

"No, I am. I'm pissed about it. That's why I give abusive fathers a taste of their own damn medicine. Someone's gotta put them in their place."

"That's why you're at my house, huh?" Dash muttered.

"Yeah. I'll be back out in a little bit and tell you how it went with your old man." Johnny 13 stood and a giant, black shape that was Johnny's shadow swirled around him excitedly. Last time Dash checked, shadows weren't supposed to be able to move by themselves. Or have fangs.

"No, no, hey, wait!" he shouted, standing so suddenly that he had to take a second to steady himself on the slanted roof. "I don't want you to hurt him!"

Johnny 13 wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Why the hell not?"

When Dash opened his mouth to speak, he was cut off by an iconic, echoing voice from above. "Because he said so, Johnny."

"Phantom," he growled, and Johnny's eyes flashed greener than they already had been. It was the first time since Dash first saw him that he looked genuinely terrifying.

"Does Kitty know you're out this late at night?" Dash looked up at his hero, who was floating high above the roof with his hands on his hips and his white hair tousled by the breeze.

"She knows I have shit I need to do."

"Beating up drunks isn't something that you need to do, buddy. Go back home before I have to deliver you on Kitty's doorstep all wrapped up like a present."

Johnny's shadow growled. It's tail wrapped around Johnny's waist protectively, daring Phantom to come closer. "You wouldn't dare," Johnny spat.

"So what's it gonna be? Thermos Express or your own free will?"

Johnny cussed under his breath, pointed at Dash, and muttered, "I'll be back for your old man later," and proceeded to jump off the roof, closely followed by his shadow. A motorcycle sounded from below and faded away over time. Silence covered the rooftop like a blanket, only disrupted occasionally when Dash's father let out a colorful curse.

Phantom landed on the roof easily, never once making a sound. "So, uh, your dad."

Dash looked down. A blush crept up his neck and turned his ears pink. He self consciously covered the bruise on his arm. "Yeah."

Phantom sighed and ran a gloved hand through white hair. "I'm sorry, Dash. I never knew."

"Not even my friends know, Phantom. I wouldn't expect you to."

"Oh, right." Phantom coughed, sounding a bit nervous for a second. It faded just as Dash noticed it. "I don't know you that well. Yeah."

Dash sent him a strange look but said nothing.

"I can say something to him if you'd like," Phantom said, green eyes studying Dash's. "I won't beat the shit out of him, but I can talk to him. I can tell the police, too, you know."

Dash sighed. "I got it handled."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

Phantom stood there awkwardly for a few more seconds, swaying uncomfortably from heel to toe. "Well, okay then. If you ever need me, just, uh," he paused, glanced around, and closed his eyes like he couldn't believe he was doing this. "Just call me. My number is–"

"Woah, woah, wait, hold up," Dash said, eyes widening. "You're giving me your phone number?"

"Well, yeah. " Phantom sighed. "You can't let anyone else know you have it, though, or I'm changing my number."

"Deal," Dash said, pulling his phone out of his jean pocket. "K, here you go."

He stood, shaking in silent excitement, as Phantom typed in his number and handed it back to him.

"Danny?" Dash asked, staring down at the contact name.

"If someone looks over your shoulder, I don't want it to say 'Phantom.' That'll be a dead giveaway. Danny's my first name."

Dash shook his head. "But there's this nerd at my school named Danny. I'll be ruined if anyone thinks I'm talking to him. Can I put your name in as Dan?"

"Hell to the no. I hate that name." Phantom's expression darkened, though Dash didn't know why.

"Put it in as Daniel or something, then. Honestly, you could put it in as Salamander the Fourth and I wouldn't give a fuck. Just not Dan or Phantom, okay?"

"Salamander the Fourth it is, then." Dash grinned. "See you around, Salamander."

"Did you actually–for fuck's sake, alright then." Phantom hopped a bit, now floating a few feet over the roof. "Bye."

Dash watched as Phantom flew off. He couldn't stop looking down at the contact information in his phone and grinning.

Ghosts were weird.

* * *

 _id like to start by saying sorry if you find any weird formatting in here. i created this and the next two oneshots on the mac downstairs, and therefore saved them on an application called pages (which ffn does not support. just my luck, right?). i then sent this oneshot and the next two oneshots through my gmail to this computer and proceeded to do a very lengthy process in which i copied and pasted the text into a word document and then spent forever attempting to fix the strange format. here's where you guys collectively offer_ other _ways to do this that are probably much easier and i smack myself on the head and cuss myself out (but trust me, i tried to many other options. it kept repeating the self damn message: file corrupt. wonderful, right? JUST. MY. LUCK). sigh. the whole thing took an hour or so to do and now i have to do the same thing for two other oneshots (on of which is twice the length of this one) and_ then _continue to work on dannymay oneshots, seeing as i haven't had time to do them these past two days due to work. yay. wonderful. perfect._

 _please review. this took way more work than it should have and you can bet that i am never ever_ ever _writing something for ffn on the downstairs mac. ever. again._

 _xx_


	14. the dragon girl

Daniel James Fenton was tired of being ordered about by his mother and father. Really, he'd rather go out with his best friend and practice archery or swordsmanship, but this? This was entirely ruining his day.

Daniel was walking through the forest outside the kingdom grounds, feeling rather worn down and annoyed at the order to seek out the dragon girl that had been so diligently pestering the kingdom for the past three full moons. Behind him, stumbling over the various rocks and sticks that lay about, was Tucker Foley. His father was an baker and his mother a clothier. It was because of Tucker's mother's occupation that Daniel Fenton, future King of Amity, had grown close to the boy. It was she who created the very shirt and pants that Daniel was currently wearing underneath his armor as he scoured the kingdom's surrounding forest for signs of the dragon girl.

Tucker, by default, had become his manservant. His parents had requested that he take the job upon noticing Daniel and Tucker's unfaltering connection, and Tucker very happily obliged.

Daniel hardly forced Tucker to do his things, though. He was a perfectly capable young man that could dress and clean himself, thank you. His best friend's status was really of no need to him, but his parents insisted, and by Daniel's side Tucker stayed. He wasn't complaining, mind you.

He loved having Tucker around! He just didn't enjoy the way his parents ordered him about or Tucker's persistence in fulfilling his job.

"Is something bothering you, my liege?" Tucker queried from behind, breathing rather heavily as he struggled to keep up.

Daniel politely slowed for him. "For the last time, Tucker, please stop calling me your liege."

"Your parents insist."

"My parents are dollopheads. The dragon girl that we're after is nothing but a nuisance to the kingdom. There's really no reason to seek her out, if you ask me. I was looking forward to running about with you."

"Your parents are not dollopheads!" Tucker looked rather shocked at the terminology.

Daniel glanced at him, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Okay, maybe a bit," Tucker admitted, studying the ground. "But they're the King and Queen! You know they'd come after the dragon girl themselves if not for other engagements."

"Yeah, yeah." Daniel waved him off with a roll of his eyes. "Save the sweet talk for my parents, please. You know I don't care for–"

A chilling roar cracked through the forest, sending birds into disarray and otherwise noisy creatures deathly silent. Daniel's sword was out in an instant.

"Tucker, get behind me," he muttered. Tucker happily obliged.

The biggest dragon Daniel had ever seen broke through the trees, its footfalls so heavy that it reduced large rocks to mere pebbles. It studied the two boys with head held high, a huff of smoke soaring from its nostrils and ruffling Danny's stark black hair. He brought himself down into a defensive position, eyes narrowed.

The sword glinted in the beast's large black eyes and it growled lowly. Tucker shook like a leaf behind him.

Daniel was the first to act. He rushed forward with a yell of malice, slicing a thin cut into the beast's stomach before it could react. It let out another ear-splitting roar and snapped angrily at Daniel's heels, following his diving figure with its long, scaly neck. It's mouth opened wide, internal fire lighting the insides a horrible red.

Daniel jumped and dove into a somersault, stumbling as he just barely avoided the spray of molten fire. The surrounding trees were reduced to ashes in mere moments, fire igniting the grass and casting menacing shadows across the dragon's face.

Tucker screeched. His hat, which he was never seen without, has burst into flames atop his head. He threw it to the ground in panic, stomping desperately on the flames in an attempt to stifle them.

Tucker's head had almost been roasted. Daniel's wide eyes turned to face the beast once more, a determined gleam lighting his blue eyes.

He couldn't let Tucker get hurt.

With a yell, he raised his sword and brought it down upon the dragon's low neck. The beast was too large and didn't manage to swerve out of the way before the blade made contact and sliced through his scales. Blood spurted from the wound and the dragon screeched in pain rather than anger. The ground shook.

His sword smacked against hard bone and he brought the bloody thing out of the beast's neck, watching it hit the ground with a resounding thud that echoed throughout the forest.

The last of the flames were beginning to fade due to morning dew and the still-wet foliage from last night's rainfall. The fire could not thrive in such circumstances.

Daniel was breathing rather heavily. The tip of his sword hit the ground and he swayed ever so slightly in after-battle exhaustion. Then, as he wiped the mixture of dragon blood and sweat from his forehead, he turned to face Tucker and ask him if he was alright.

A woman, with shoulder length black hair and a dress fashioned from leaves, was standing over his unconscious form.

The dragon girl.

She turned and scowled in Daniel's direction, a tear falling from her eye and landing on her sun-tanned skin. Vibrant colors stained her cheeks and neck in swirling patterns. The same design, though cracked and a bit more faded than the colors on her face, painted the back of her hand and crawled up her forearm.

She was beautiful, but she was also dangerous and insane. Daniel had to get rid of her like his parents had ordered. She had hurt his friend . . !

"Daniel Fenton. You have taken my friend's life."

He scoffed, lifting his sword. "Your . . . your friend? That beast tried to kill me!"

"After you had already attacked it with your sword."

Daniel scowled. He didn't have time for this. He went to lift his sword to his neck and demand she come silently back to the kingdom . . .

His sword flew out of his grip and clattered against a tree that was across the burnt field the dragon had created in its flaming fit of destruction. Daniel followed it with his eyes before whipping back towards the girl, newfound hatred burning throughout every inch of his body.

"You . . . You witch!"

The dragon girl hummed. "My name, Daniel, is Samantha." Her hand lifted, fingers splayed, and he noticed that it was glowing red. "This is a name that I do not believe you will soon forget."

Daniel had to get out of here, but he couldn't leave without Tucker. He was unarmed against a demented witch. What was he going to do?

"Look, I'll let you go if you give me my friend." he gesticulated toward Tucker's slumbering form.

Samantha barked out a harsh laugh. "You'll let me go? Oh, Daniel, you're as ignorant as your parents. You hunt my family, my friends." She paused, and a grin lit up her sorrowful expression. "I think it's only proper that you're hunted by those you love as well."

Daniel didn't know what she was going on about. He had to get him and Tucker out of here, and now.

"Such hatred and fury in your young heart. I'll teach you love. I'll teach you understanding."

"Look, lady, I don't know what you're going on about–!"

He felt himself fall unconscious before he could finish his sentence.

Daniel awoke in complete and mind-numbing pain. His entire body felt as though he had walked through the pits of Hell and barely survived to tell the tale. He groaned, bleary, confused eyes opening to stare upwards at foliage and open, blue sky.

The witch!

Daniel sat up and his head swam. The world tilted at once and he fell back to the ground. Two rather uncomfortable rocks persistently prodded him in the back.

He groaned again, eyes squeezed shut against the blistering light. Why was it so bright? Everything around him was much too vibrant. His nose was being assaulted by a variety of smells each so incredibly distinct. His ears pounded with the sound of bugs and birds and his own rushing blood. Someone close by was breathing rather heavily.

Tucker. That was most definitely Tucker. Was he okay? Did the witch do something to him?

Swiveling his head towards the noise (and the smell; Tucker really needed a bath), Daniel squinted against the sunlight. Slowly but surely, Tucker's form came into focus. He was pressed against a tree, staring him down with wide eyes. A flow of continuous tears stained his cheeks and wet his shirt, and his white knuckles held a charred stick in their grasp and though it was his lifeline.

Daniel sighed in relief. "Tucker! You're oka–"

The words that had came out were not his own. In fact, they weren't even words. Rather, it sounded more like a collection of chortles and gurgles, quite similar to a dragon's.

A dragon's. The witch's words came back into the forefront of his mind. He hadn't thought about them before, but now . . .

 _"I think it's only proper that you're hunted by those you love as well."_

Daniel's eyes widened despite the pain that blossomed in his head. His head whipped around and he stared down at his laying body . . .

Shiny black scales met his gaze. Two black wings, striped at the edges with white, sprouted from his back (he had previously believed those to be two uncomfortable rocks!) and a black tail, striped at the end like the wings, lay unmoving on the ground.

He tried to stand in surprise only to find him tripping over his feet once more. They felt clunky and overgrown.

Tucker screamed when he tried to stand, clutching the stick closer to his chest.

"Tucker, you turnip-head! It's me!" Daniel shouted, but, to Tucker, it sounded only like a low grumble and a slight roar of anger. He tried to sink into the tree behind him.

"You killed my friend," Tucker muttered, gazing landing on something beside Daniel. "You . . . You killed him, and–"

Daniel looked over. His own clothes, now ripped and in tatters, lay beside his massive form.

The reality of the situation hit him like a rock. Before, it had only been a little thought in his clouded, sleep-shrouded mind; now it was reality.

Daniel couldn't believe it. He refused to.

That witch had turned him into a dragon!

He yelled, struggled to get to his feet once more, and, upon standing on his back two limbs, found himself quite overbalanced and fell flat on his back. Pain shot through his wings and into his back and he yelped, tumbling over onto his stomach and struggling to push himself up once more.

Something started hitting him. He turned around to see Tucker jabbing at his back with the charred stick.

"Stop!" he shouted. This came out as a short roar, loud even to Daniel's ears, and Tucker dropped the stick in pure fright and fell backwards once more.

How could he explain this to Tucker? How?

Daniel groaned. He was still in a world of pain.

An idea bloomed in his mind, and he sat up (Key word: sat. He still hadn't gotten a hang of standing yet). Taking a finger, no, a claw, Daniel drew letters into the ash and dirt.

Tucker's eyes widened. What on _Earth_ was that dragon doing?

Daniel finished, looked up at Tucker, and saw that he hadn't moved from his spot. He stomped once, looked back down at the writing, and then looked up at Tucker once more with a pointed glare. This continued for several moments before Tucker got the courage to crawl cautiously forward.

The words were upside down, but Tucker could quite clearly read the shaky handwriting.

 _It's me, you idiot. It's Daniel._

Tucker looked up. If possible, his eyes grew even wider than before. "M-My liege?"

Daniel stomped. "You know I don't like being called that!" he said, but the resulting sentence was only grumbles and chortles of distaste in Tucker's ears.

Tucker still got the message, though. A disbelieving grin broke across his face and he wiped at the tears on his cheeks. "Danny! I thought you were dead!"

Tucker hadn't called Daniel 'Danny' since they were eight. The response surprised him quite a bit, but he was taken aback even more by the succeeding hug.

Tucker could hardly wrap his arms around Daniel's neck, but he tried valiantly to do so, anyway. Then, stepping back, he looked Daniel over with newfound fear and curiosity.

"Did–Did the dragon girl do this to you? Was she a witch?"

Daniel nodded emphatically. _Yes_ and _no_ were the only responses he could give without writing.

Tucker's face fell suddenly. "You can't go back to the kingdom."

Daniel sent him a quizzical gaze, head tilting. Tucker must've gotten the message, because he responded, "Daniel, they'd kill you! You know how the kingdom feels about dragons! You'd be dead before you could write the first word!"

The full reality of the situation dawned on him with Tucker's words. He couldn't go back home.

What was Daniel going to do?

* * *

 _i noticed another thing whilst fixing the formatting on this oneshot: everything that i had italicized was no longer, well, italicized. i tried to fix the things that needed_ obvious _italicizing, but if you notice anything else, please let me know and i will gladly fix it._

 _once again, along with the italicizing thing, please let me know if there are any formatting issues in this chapter. i would really, really appreciate it._

 _finally, please review. i had to leave the laptop to go to a dance recital and am now looking at a long night of writing ahead of me, along with the format editing of the oneshot that will be published after this one. i would really appreciate a nice little review for my worries, and, if you cannot, that's perfectly alright as well._

 _xx_


	15. home

Cujo was undoubtedly lost.

It was two in the morning in Amity Park, the streets deathly quiet save for the soft padding of Cujo's feet on the sidewalk. He whimpered confusedly; this wasn't the right street either. In fact, he didn't know what street he was on!

He kept going, though his legs were getting tired and sense of loneliness was rising. He travelled down a back alleyway and then followed the streetlights to another neighborhood, and another, and another!

He couldn't find it! He couldn't find home!

Cujo sat suddenly, coming to rest by a rusty green trash bin in yet another back alley. A mangy cat hissed at him and climbed underneath the bin, warning him to keep moving, but Cujo didn't care anymore. Nothing mattered if he couldn't find home!

Cujo began to cry. His whines echoed down the alley and into the darkened street, heard only by the occasional alley cat and rat.

He was lost! He'd never find home again, and it was all his fault. He shouldn't have wandered in the first place. He couldn't believe himself. Stupid, stupid! He couldn't find home!

Cujo cried for an hour straight, howling sorrowfully at the flickering streetlight in unadulterated internal pain. Even the cat underneath the trash bin stopped hissing at him and settled on curling up to sleep.

He was lost! He was lost! He was lost! He'd never find home! He'd never find it!

It went on like this until the early hours of the morning, when the black sky began showing hints of purples and dark, dark blues. The cat startled awake and hit her head on top of the trash bin, mewing angrily. Hurried footsteps were now echoing down the alleyway, unheard by the yowling, whimpering puppy.

"Cujo!" said a voice, loud in the otherwise silent neighborhood. It echoed slightly even without the help of the alleyway, which only magnified it.

Cujo stopped his whimpering upon hearing his name. He turned slowly, afraid that the person whose familiar voice spoke wouldn't be there when he turned around.

Yet, there he was, walking hurriedly toward his small form. His white hair bounced with each step he took.

Home! Home! Home!

Cujo was yapping excitedly, running to him at top speed. He jumped into his arms and nuzzled into his chest.

He'd found home!

Danny chuckled, gently running his gloved hands through Cujo's fur. Cujo was still yipping, though much quieter now.

"Come on, let's go home."

Cujo didn't understand, and he didn't really care, either.

He'd already found home.

* * *

 _i hope you all don't mind the length, seeing as this one is the shortest oneshot i've written so far. as with the last three, please let me know if there are any formatting issues; i'd really appreciate it_

 _here's to an upcoming night of oneshot after oneshot. let's hope i stay awake long enough to get some done._

 _xx_


	16. do you know what this means?

_warning: cussing_

If Danny heard Tucker say the word "superhero" again, he'd throw up.

It had been… Danny glanced at the clock. Approximately four hours, twelve minutes, and fifty-six seconds since Danny awoke from what he and his friends had already began referring to as "the portal incident," and his entire body ached. He would still occasionally feel his muscles spasm and twitch from residual electricity and, upon inspecting himself in the mirror, noticed a nasty, colorful bruise covering most of his body in lightning-shaped streaks. Sure, yes, he was concerned about the bruises and the spasms and with whatever Tucker was rambling on about now, but he was significantly _more_ concerned with the statement that kept running through his boggled brain: _I'm dead._

But he couldn't be! He had a heartbeat, and he was breathing…somewhat. There was no way that he was—

"DUDE, DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?" Tucker screeched, voice reverberating off the walls and echoing in Danny's small room. His head, which was already pounding from both his contemplations and the fact that he had been literally electrocuted a few hours ago, burst into newfound pain.

 _"What?"_ Danny hissed, rubbing at his temples. Sam gently put her hand on his shoulder and glared at Tucker, who was not at all stifled by their disapproving reactions.

"When you're in your superhero form or whatever, you can cuss, like _whenever you want,_ and no one can get mad at you because you're a ghost and they don't know who you are."

Danny blinked once. Twice. Three times. Silence stretched between them, with nothing but the gentle hum of the computer in the corner of his room snuffing it. Tucker's grin was unwavering."

"Tucker, I don't think now is the best time for—" Sam started, but Danny silenced her with words of his own.

"TUCKER MICHAEL FOLEY. DOES IT BOTHER YOU _WHATSOEVER_ THAT I'M ACTUALLY DEAD NOW."

"You're not _completely_ dead." Tucker's smile faltered slightly. "I thought you'd be excited! You're always complaining about how boring your life is, and—"

"WHY. WOULD I EVEN _THINK_ ABOUT BEING ABLE TO FUCKING CUSS. WHEN I LITERALLY MIGHT DIE COMPLETELY OF TERMINAL CANCER OR SOMETHING."

"Hey, we're not here for a long time, we're here for a good time, right buddy?" Tucker responded, though it was hardly a murmur. Danny's eyes were glowing green and it was rather disconcerting.

"HA. HAHA. HAHAHAHAHA—"

* * *

"Ow! What the fucking hell, bitch? What the fuck?" Phantom yelped, cradling his injured arm. He flew quickly toward the offending ghost, punching it so hard that it flew straight into a nearby building and shook the ground underneath Sam and Tucker's feet. "How the fuck do you like it, cocksucker?"

Tucker grinned as he watched a nearby mother cover her child's ears in utter horror. Then he turned to Sam, who was watching the fight with a horrible frown. "See? I told you this cussing thing would be entertaining."

"I hate you."

Tucker shrugged, turned towards the fight, and pumped his fist in the air. "Yeah! Get 'im, Danny! You got this!"

Sam sighed.

Being friends with these two boys was _exhausting._

* * *

 _another short one! i think the rest of these oneshots are probably going to get significantly shorter due to time restraints. i'm already super late and i'd like to finish up by june 5th so i can start up ffak again._

 _please review! and mind the possible ooc-ness; it's a shitty au, after all._

 _xx_


	17. staredown

"Danny, hey, look at me," Tucker said, holding up his smartphone.

Danny chewed up the last bit of his chicken nugget. "Why?" he queried, glancing up.

"I read on Tumblr that your friends like it when you take lots of pictures of them."

"You're still following all those hipster accounts, aren't you?" Danny asked, stuffing another nugget into his mouth.

"Uh, maybe." Tucker snapped another picture. "You don't look hot in any of these, by the way."

Danny chuckled, did an exaggerated duck face, and proceeded to pose wildly whilst Tucker snapped pictures left and right, laughing all the while. He then turned the camera to Sam, who quickly said, "If you take any pictures of me, I'll snap your phone in half."

Tucker went back to taking pictures of Danny.

The boy swiped through each picture, smile faltering with every swipe.

"I look good, right?" Danny queried sarcastically. Then, looking up from his mashed potatoes, he said, "Hey, is everything alright?"

"Wes Weston is in the background staring at you in every single one of these."

Danny blinked slowly. "You're kidding."

"No. Look for yourself." Tucker passed the phone over, sneaking a glance at Wes and noting that he hadn't stopped staring. He was taking exaggerated bites from his sandwich, staring daggers into the back of Danny's head.

"What is his _problem?"_ Danny asked, huffing angrily. "I'm gonna go talk to him."

"Danny, don't! He'll stop bothering you if you don't respond. You can't do anything rash or—"

But Danny was already up and out of his seat, stalking towards Wes with annoyance evident in his eyes. He approached the table and was met with curious stares as he slammed his hands down on the table and took the empty seat beside the offender.

"Is there an issue?" Wes asked, taking another slow, smug bite from his sandwich.

"Do _you_ have an issue?" Danny said, biting back yells of anger. "I've been dealing with you for way too fucking long, buddy. When are you going to give up?"

"It wouldn't be bothering you this much if you weren't Danny Phantom."

The people around them, who had been listening intently, rolled their eyes at this and went back to their own conversations. They'd all heard Wes argue his ridiculous case more often than they wanted. It was brought up almost every day, and, quite frankly, they were getting about as tired of it as Danny was.

Danny hummed. "Oh. Obviously. You got me, Wes. Why don't you just go ahead and leave me alone, then?"

Wes' smug expression morphed into one of great annoyance. "I'm not gonna stop until the rest of the school knows what you are, Phantom."

Danny wanted to scream. He promptly stood, turned towards the rest of the cafeteria, and shouted, "Hey everyone! I'm Danny Phantom!"

The cafeteria echoed with laughter. Someone else shouted, "No, I'm Danny Phantom!" and the response echoed as others picked up on it until Mr. Lancer came out and ordered that everyone stop.

Danny sat back down, rested his arms on the table, and smirked in Wes' direction. "There. Now everyone knows. Are you gonna leave me alone now?"

"No," Wes muttered. His entire face had gone red.

Danny cussed under his breath. "If I catch you staring at me or my friends again, we're gonna have a little more than a 'friendly chat.' I'm not dealing with this."

"What are you gonna do? Hurt me?" Wes argued, getting in Danny's face. Their noses were almost touching.

Danny's eyes flashed green. It was just enough for Wes to backpedal, falling right off his stool and hitting the tile floor underneath. Then Danny stood, brushed off his shirt, and headed back to his table with Tucker and Sam.

"What the heck did you do to him?" Sam asked, visibly angry at him for encouraging Wes.

"Threatened him."

 _"Seriously?"_

"Relax, I'm not gonna actually go through with it. I'm just tired of dealing with him."

"Uh, you might want to hold on the whole 'promising not to hurt Wes' thing," Tucker said.

"Why?"

"Because he's still staring at you. He looks angrier than before, though."

Danny glared ahead of him. Sam offered a half-hearted, "Told you." Tucker slipped his phone into his pocket and busied himself with eating.

 _Mark my words,_ Danny thought, glaring down at his mostly-empty tray.

 _This isn't over._

* * *

 _you know what to do ! review, review, review !_

 _xx_


	18. ectoplasmic tulips

Sam Manson felt absolutely horrible.

Her entire body _ached_ like she had been repeatedly punched and tortured for three days straight, and it was, admittedly, not the best feeling in the world. Her head continued to pound despite the excess amounts of Ibuprofen and Excedrin that she shoved down her throat in desperate attempts to numb the pain, and she hadn't had the energy to get out of bed (besides to go to the bathroom) ever since the Undergrowth incident.

Sam was downright miserable, and it wasn't letting up. At any rate, she was going to have to head off to the hospital and get treated. Despite her research, Sam wasn't able to find what she had come down with, seeing as searching "being mind-controlled by a plant and the after effects" didn't reap many responses from Web MD.

She just hoped it ended soon.

A soft knock sounded from her window and she made a moaning sound that hardly sounded like the grumbling acceptance she was going for. Danny phased through her wall anyhow, green eyes blinking in the darkness of her bedroom. He made to turn on the light.

"Don't you _dare,_ Daniel Fenton," Sam choked out, her own head pounding at the effort it took to mutter a mere five words.

Danny adjusted and headed towards Sam's bed instead, sitting down at the end and sinking slightly into the mattress. "How are you feeling?" He whispered, conscious of the sound of his own echoing voice.

"How do you think I'm feeling?" Sam queried, glancing up at his darkened shadow.

"I brought you flowers," he muttered, ignoring her previous question. "They're the ones that still have their roots. I know you don't like the cut ones."

Sam hummed, grinning slightly. "Thank you. Just set them down on my nightstand, alright?"

"Okay. Are you feeling any better than you were two days ago? Because if you feel worse, you should probably go to the doctor's or somethi—holy shit Sam _how are you doing that?"_

She hissed when Danny raised his voice, twisting her fist into her blankets. "Doing what?" she whispered, eyes squeezed shut.

Something that felt suspiciously like a leaf brushed against her face and she recoiled. "Danny, stop that!"

"I'm not doing anything! The plant is growing by itself!"

Sam opened her eyes, saw giant tulip petals inches from her nose, and spooked. The tulips withered a bit upon her fright, retreating back into the pot on her bedside table.

"Holy canoli," Sam whispered, sitting up in bed despite her protesting body. Her head burst into pain and she whimpered involuntarily, the tulips in the pot faltering in their movement momentarily. "Am I doing that?"

"I think so," Danny muttered, cautiously approaching the pot. "It must be, like, residual ectoplasmic energy from you being controlled. That's probably why you're so sick; your body is trying to fight against it."

"Peachy," Sam muttered, laying her head on her pillow. "Any chance that it'll end soon?"

"Yeah. You just gotta wait until the ectoplasm wears out, I guess. But, hey, in the meantime, you can control plants."

"Yay," Sam deadpanned. She nuzzled her face against her pillow, falling deeper and deeper into sleep.

"Sam?"

She didn't respond.

"Okay, then. Goodnight." Sam listened as Danny's faint footfalls headed for the window and disappeared suddenly.

She fell asleep moments afterward.

* * *

 _i'm so fricking tired you don't even understand i could actually fall asleep right here right now and i don't know why like i need to write about **seven** of these today and seven of these tomorrow if i wanna get done tomorrow but i have work and im just so vfrehgvureguoeog i'm so tired like i keep yawning and i'm actually like crying because i'm yawning so much i don't even know how to explain to you how tired i am i think it's because i recently switched medications idk_

 _pls review i literally might pass out at this keyboard at any second_

 _ps i think it's really funny how these oneshots went from like 1k+ to 500 words REAL quick lmao_

 _send help_

 _xx_


	19. i'm sorry

At this point, Danny couldn't take anything seriously.

He was so incredibly sleep deprived and emotionally drained that even something as simple as someone sneezing in class would send him into a fit of giggles that could not be contained. Rumors passed from person to person, talk of him being on drugs common in the hallways of Casper High. It wasn't a farfetched accusation, either; Danny definitely looked the part with his bloodshot eyes and messy, just-rolled-out-of-bed hair that surely hadn't been washed in many, many days.

Danny's strange behavior was beginning to become popular with the teachers, too. At one point, Mr. Lancer handed Danny a note and told him to hand it to his parents immediately. Danny had cackled loudly and thrown the note into the trashcan whilst departing from the classroom, shoulders still shaking from poorly contained laughter.

After about a week or so, when Danny's behavior had already become old news and students moved on to discuss prom coming up in two months (it was all anybody seemed to talk about), Sam and Tucker started to become concerned as well. They'd seen him like this before, but it usually only lasted a day or less, not a _week._ The night before, whilst Danny was on patrol, Sam and Tucker had made the decision to meet up and converse about their plan of action.

The very next day, at lunch, the duo approached their usual table in silence, gently setting down their trays and watching Danny rake lines into his mashed potatoes with his fork. That was something else Sam and Tucker had noticed: he didn't seem to be eating that much. It was surely taking a toll, seeing as only a week had passed and his jaw line was already far more chiseled than before.

Sam and Tucker glanced at each other.

"Why the long faces?" Danny asked suddenly, a grin lifting his cheeks but not quite reaching his eyes. He laughed suddenly, throwing a fry in Tucker's direction. It bounced off his cheek and landed dejectedly by his tray, which only sent Danny into a longer, more pronounced fit of giggles. A few students from surrounding tables rolled their eyes and continued on with their conversations.

"Danny, Tucker and I are concerned about your mental health," Sam said, pushing her tray aside and clasping her hands together on the table.

Danny cackled once, fork smashing into his perfectly raked mashed potatoes. He started over, flattening the top of the mound and gently running over the top. "Join the club; I'll make jackets."

"Danny," Tucker said resting his elbows on the table as well. He brought his hands up to his mouth and rested his chin atop them, studying his best friend intently. "You know you can tell us anything, right? You're aware of that?"

Danny's smile faltered but remained on his face. "Yeah, I'm aware of that. There's just nothing wrong."

"You're joking," Sam deadpanned.

Danny snorted, shook his head, and focused his attention once more on raking his potatoes into perfectly straight lines. He didn't respond.

"Look, you need some well-deserved rest. Tuck and I can take up the night patrols and you can get some sleep and work on your school—"

"NO!" Danny shouted suddenly, and the cafeteria went momentarily silent before starting up conversation once more, though much more hushed than before. People were sending their table strange looks.

A single tear fell down Danny's cheek and he brushed at it, chuckling under his breath. "No. I'm fine, guys, really."

"Why won't you let us help you?" Tucker queried, voice filled with both anger and concern. He slammed his fist down on the table. The long-forgotten fry shook.

"Because I can't let you get hurt!" Danny screamed. This time, the entire cafeteria went completely and utterly silent. Danny's smile fell, revealing the features of someone too young for the age in his eyes. Tears fell freely from his eyes and silently onto the table below. "I-I can't let anyone get hurt. I couldn't forgive myself."

He stood suddenly, eyes following his movements, and walked quickly towards the exit with his head down. The doors swung open and closed. Whispers broke out among the students left in the lunchroom.

"I'll go after him," Sam said, standing. She jogged after him and into the hallway.

Danny was already gone. In fact, there was no sign of him ever being in here. Not even the faint sound of his sneakers against shiny linoleum could be heard.

Tucker ran out from the cafeteria, sliding to a stop beside Sam. He surveyed the empty, silent hallway once before saying, "He always goes to the roof when he's thinking something over."

"How the hell are we gonna get up there?" Sam queried, eyebrows furrowed.

"There's a ladder in the upstairs janitor's closet." He started jogging in the direction of the stairs.

"I'm not even going to _ask._ "

Sam and Tucker made it to the janitor's closet and up the ladder quickly enough, Tucker undoing the hatch and pushing it open. Cool spring breeze quickly met them, pressing down upon them as they climbed the rest of the way up the ladder and onto the roof above.

Phantom was sitting on the edge of the roof as though he had collapsed there, legs folded uncomfortably beneath him. He glanced back when the hatch opened, revealing tear-stained cheeks and wide, entirely green eyes. Not even the whites of his eyes or his pupils were visible in that expanse of neon, staring blankly back at them. Danny's shoulders were shaking.

Sam watched as Tucker broke out into a run, his red beret caught by the wind and falling despondently to the concrete rooftop. He fell to his knees and wrapped warm arms around Danny's cold body.

Danny's breath hitched, his eyes widening minutely. Then, as if something broke inside him, he fell into Tucker's hug, entirely green eyes seeping into white sclera and blue iris. His entire body shook with each horrible sob. Streaks of black colored his once stark-white hair.

Sam ran for the two boys, dropping to her knees and ripping her fishnet tights on the concrete. She wrapped her arms around both Tucker and Danny, letting the ghost boy nuzzle his head into her shoulder. He choked and shook, fresh tears wetting the fabric of her purple sweater.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, encased in Sam and Tucker's hug like a Danny sandwich. "I'm so sorry."

Sam ran her fingers through his now black hair, tears beginning to brim her eyes as well. "It's alright, Danny.

"It's okay."

* * *

 _here's some good old fashioned angst for ya. in case you haven't been able to tell yet, i really like writing sam and tucker comforting danny. it's just nice. they're such good friends wow i'm love them_

 _also review pls_

 _xx_


	20. blood blossom casserole

Danny sat around the table with his family. It was one of those rare occasions where Maddie ordered the entire family to eat a homemade dinner together, which usually resulted in ectoplasmic contamination or the animation of typically non-animated things. Because of this, Danny hadn't sat down and ate a homemade dinner with his family for a few years, and he liked it that way. Avoiding his parents pestering queries and evaluating eyes was number one on his to do list every single day of the week, and, at family dinners, it was kind of difficult to do so.

Danny frowned down at the casserole in front of him, just _waiting_ for it to become possessed by the Food Ghost or something. When nothing happened, he hesitantly took his fork and poked at it, spearing a piece and bringing it up to his awaiting mouth.

He chewed the casserole thoughtfully, listening to Jazz and Jack's happy "Mmms" of approval. Danny, however, forced himself to swallow the bite he'd been chewing and crinkled his nose in distaste. "What is this?" he queried, thoroughly disgusted. His stomach was already bringing him pain, though not too noticeable.

Maddie looked at him, eyebrow raised. "I thought you loved blood blossom casserole," she said through a mouthful of the stuff.

Danny's eyes widened. He stared down at the casserole, stomach roiling. "Say what now?"

"Is something wrong?" Jazz queried, eyebrows furrowed. She looked genuinely concerned.

"I, uh, I don't feel very good," Danny said, which wasn't a lie. He felt like his throat was closing up and like fire was running through his veins. It was getting worse with each passing second. He stood suddenly, running for the stairs and ignoring the shouts of protest from behind.

He slammed the bathroom door shut, his entire body shaking. Sweat made his hands slippery and beaded on his forehead. A steady flow of blood began dripping from his nose.

He was falling apart from the inside out.

 _I have to get this out of me,_ Danny thought, and, leaning over the toilet, he took his finger and shoved it down his swollen throat. He gagged once, twice, and then a mixture of stomach acid, blood, and that one bite of blood blossom casserole came up and he vomited into the toilet, still shaking and sweating crazily. His knees buckled underneath him and his back slammed against the bathroom wall. He distractedly wiped the red blood from his mouth and nose, forcing air through his mouth and down his swollen wind pipe.

Someone knocked on the door. "Danny?" said Jazz from through the wooden door. "Is everything alright?"

"I think I'm allergic to blood blossoms," he murmured, head bobbing against his chest. His entire form slumped against the wall and he slid down it, head coming to rest on the plushy rug covering the bathroom tile.

He fell unconscious right as his dad broke the door down.

* * *

 _my dad is yelling at me to come downstairs like HEY DAD HERES A WILD CONCEPT IM A LITTLE BUSY RIGHT NOW IM SUPPOSED TO WRITE SEVEN ONESHOTS TODAY ANd I ONLY HAVE THREE DONE SO FAR PLEASE SHUT THE ACTUAL HELL UP_

 _anyways, please review. and pray for me. i don't know how i'm gonna get anything done with this fricking family._

 _xx_


	21. interruptions

Christmas day.

It was the only day where both schoolwork and ghost hunting were on a hold and, therefore, the only day in the _entire year_ where Danny could get a proper night of rest. Because of this, Danny had planned a very short, simplistic list for the holiday festivities:

Sleep.

Unfortunately, this plan was first thwarted (as many things in Danny's life are) by the well-meanings of Jack and Maddie Fenton. They broke through his bedroom door at eight in the morning, screaming "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" at the very top of their extremely powerful lungs.

Danny promptly screamed in shock, fell out of his bed in a tumble of blankets and pillows, and glared angrily in his parent's direction. He begrudgingly headed downstairs to open some presents, profusely thanked his parents for the gifts (most relating to astrology and astronomy), and headed back upstairs for some _more_ sleep.

His head had hardly hit the pillow when multiple ghosts came _right through_ his bedroom wall, set off all the ghost alarms in the house, shouted "Merry Christmas!" over the blaring sirens, and then flew back out again.

His parents burst into his room for the second time that morning, this time brandishing ectoplasmic-charged guns.

Jack didn't get the alarms off for another thirty minutes and Maddie refused to let Danny stay in his room unsupervised after that incident, resulting in the rest of the morning being surrounded by his eccentric parents and their ghost-raving.

At noon, quickly succeeding lunch, Danny managed to escape from his parent's grasp and slip upstairs and back underneath his covers. He was almost asleep when, _once again,_ something awoke him.

His mother and father had started their yearly arguing over the existence of Santa Claus. Jazz's voice also floated up the stairs, yelling something about, "promising not to fight this year" before being drowned out by more shouting.

Danny huffed. He couldn't handle this. So, when his phone buzzed from his bedside table and flourished Sam's name and number, he brought it to his ear gratefully, drinking in the calming sound of her voice. It was the first calming thing he'd experienced all day.

"You wanna come over to my place? Tucker's bringing bad horror movies."

"Will it be quiet?"

"Oh, yeah. My parents went on vacation after Hanukkah ended. It's just me and Gram here."

"Perfect."

Danny hung up, transformed into Phantom, and was out of the house in seconds, flying towards Sam's house as fast as his abilities could take him. He beat his previous record of two minutes thirty-seven seconds by twenty whole seconds and was taking a seat in one of Sam's plushy movie theatre seats before Sam was even aware what blew past her.

"I'm gonna take a nap," Danny said, reverting back to his human self.

"By all means," Sam muttered, grabbing the remote.

Sam and Tucker watched horror movies for the rest of the afternoon while Danny snored softly in the back.

* * *

 _the fourth and last one for today. i think i'm going to bring my laptop to work tomorrow and try to get some oneshots done in the morning while the kids color or something (we usually go to the pool in the afternoon). the chances of me finishing by tomorrow are dwindling with each passing day but, hey! i'm still proud of how much i've written this past week. i can't wait to start back up on ffak; i've really missed it._

 _as always, please review._

 _xx_


	22. gray area

Danny liked to fly. He liked how the wind tousled his hair and pressed against his face and he liked how he couldn't hear anything but the wind in his ears and the occasional faint bird tweet. Most of all, he liked how his thoughts momentarily stopped and let his eyes survey the falling sun and constantly rising moon. It was nice. It was peaceful. It was where Danny felt most at home, up in that expanse of blue sky and underneath those twinkling faraway stars.

But, as time wore on and his mind started back up once more, darkness had a way of covering both the Earth and his brain. It was what happened _after_ flying that made him hesitant to take off into the air once more. It was as if his feet touched his bedroom carpet and someone backstage promptly shouted, _"CUE THE ONSLAUGHT OF EXISTENTIAL THOUGHTS."_

And so Danny lay upon his bed, staring up at the peeling glow-in-the-dark-stars and contemplating the strangeness of it all. He thought long and hard about the inversion of both appearance and mentality upon summoning those blue-white rings that transformed him into someone that the residents of Amity Park loved yet hated and adored but feared.

Black hair. White hair. White suit. Black suit. Blue eyes. Green eyes.

Light versus dark.

But then comes the query of which side was his light side and which side was his dark side, and if, consequently, the dark side was inherently more evil than the aforementioned light side. He'd always pictured Phantom (Danny referred to "Phantom" as an entirely separate being because, based on the differing characteristics of Phantom and Fenton, it seemed that the two might as well be two different people) as his light side, seeing as he was the bravest, strongest, and most courageous of the two. But that couldn't be right; he, Fenton, was no evil maniac and he could not picture himself becoming one. Even in the alternate time stream that was brought to light by Clockwork, he stayed virtuous until his horrible end.

So did that mean that Phantom was the dark side? He'd certainly seen this demonstrated before, with Freakshow's mind control staff and that harrowing other time stream in which Dan (again, he referred to Dan as another being separate from himself because of the simple fact that he refused to ever, ever become what he had seen) destroyed the entire world with a gruesome smile on his face.

Danny huffed. The whole situation was…befuddling. In all honesty, he neither saw any of his many sides as all good or all bad (except for maybe Dan, whose humanity _had_ been legitimately ripped out of him by Vlad), and rather viewed himself as being in a gray area similar to the area he had stepped foot in upon becoming only half ghost.

Danny supposed that was a conclusive enough answer. He was always hearing Jazz go on about how there's no good without bad and no bad without good, how the two intertwine and tangle together in a mess of confusion that jumbles ones morals and brings two heroic forces against each other. Her ramblings had never really clicked before now, though, and, as he rolled over in bed, he considered that maybe his sister wasn't as crazy as he had previously believed her to be.

Danny was neither light nor dark. He was in a gray area. And, most peculiarly, he was perfectly content with that.

So Danny, with mind now at ease, drifted off into dreamless sleep.

* * *

 _this was really hard to start up. my brain just refused to work and i was like HEY HOW ABOUT WORKING and then somehow or another i managed to spew this word cluster out. hope it's not too ridiculously boring (it's short, anyway, so just hang in there friend)._

 _you know what i'm going to say because i say it every. single. time. REVIEW. PLEASE. I LOVE HEARING FROM YOU. TELL ME ABOUT YOUR DAY AND ABOUT THAT NASTY SUNBURN ON YOUR CHEST AND ABOUT YOUR JOB AND ABOUT THIS ONE PHANFIC THAT YOU READ THAT YOU TOTALLY ThiNK I SHOULD CHECK OUT. PLEASE TALK To ME I NEEd VAliDATION._

 _xx_


	23. electricity

Danny Fenton had been shocked more times than he could count. It kinda came with the whole "my parents are scientists" thing, but he was still pretty sure that Number of Times Danny's Been Electrocuted over Number of Times Everyone Else Has Been Electrocuted was an improper fraction. He didn't really know, though. He was failing algebra.

He supposed the first time he was really, truly electrocuted was when he was four and visiting a farm for a preschool field trip. Why would you have electric fences anywhere _near_ children? Somebody hadn't thought that through. Then he was shocked again once by Tucker's tiny gaming device when they were six, which actually resulted in a burn mark and a broken game.

His first real lab incident was at ten years old. He'd been wandering and his dad had accidentally left open the weapons vault. Then he was shocked again by a broken cord. And again by a huge outlet that ended up turning off the power for the whole street. And once more by the weapons vault security system.

The one particular instance that had really done it for him, though, was at fourteen. Electrocution by misfiring tech and extremely conductive ectoplasm inside a literal _portal._ That one had almost killed him, or had, or whatever the situation was. And while it gave him a kinda cool alter ego, it also gave him lots and lots and _lots_ of ghosts to fight, an entire town to protect, and a lot more electrocutions in his future.

Danny supposed that was why, at sixteen, he still had panic attacks during lightning storms and was afraid to go near outlets or cords. After about a year and a half of ghosts exploiting his fear of being shocked, someone Big must've stepped up and told them all to knock it the hell off, because they stopped electrocuting him after that. It was a rule, really, and was whispered from ear to ear in the Ghost Zone when he'd pass by.

 _"Everybody says that you can't electrocute Phantom. It's off limits."_

 _"What? Why?"_

 _"It's a PTSD thing, I guess."_

Danny most certainly did _not_ have PTSD from a stupid shock. He was pretty sure that wasn't even justifiable reasoning for his anxiety and fear. Yeah, _sure_ he was in a ball on the bathroom floor, and _sure_ he had just thrown up and was shaking, but he definitely did not have PTSD.

Danny figured his powers would stop at ice. That's a pretty out-there power, right? No more. So when he got really extra mad at Vlad and flared up with electricity like a lightbulb, he was, well, _shocked,_ to say the least. The fighting had stopped then and there. Danny retreated, but not because he was scared of Vlad.

Because he was scared of himself.

The bathroom lights above him flickered and gave out. Soon after, Danny jolted again, and the bulb shattered. He heard his dad complaining about the TV losing connection and his mom stomping up the basement steps in frustration.

Another jolt. Downstairs, Danny's mom yelped when she touched the metal basement door.

Danny curled further into himself and huffed deep, shaking breaths.

Danny Fenton had been shocked more times than he could count.


	24. green

Danny was barely conscious as he floated lazily towards the hexagonal opening of his parents' ghost portal. He'd been out longer than he had anticipated, as a fight with Skulker had commenced the second he got within a mile radius of Skulker's lair. The problem was that Skulker was fresh with anger from their last tumble and had just finished a few (non-tested) weapons that … hurt. A lot.

Danny's head bobbed and his flight pattern wavered a bit; he fell, maintained balance, fell a little more, fought to rise up again. When Danny turned his head, his entire mind seemingly burst. He fought through blurry, green clouded vision to stare at the few wandering ghosts that followed him, some concernedly, some blood-thirstily.

Danny threw up. He never stopped moving, of course; he had to make it back to the portal in time. A worried thought flickered through his mind like a quiet warning that he quickly dismissed with false hope.

What if his parents were in the lab?

Danny glanced down at himself and wiped at the green bile that dripped from his mouth. It stained his white gloves in a morbid streak. He could feel the pain in his left leg dully but just enough to recognized that his shin had been fractured. His eyes burned; a steady stream of ectoplasm streamed from his hairline and into his eyes and down the bridge of his nose. His teeth were stained green from the stuff in his throat and from the steady rivulet of green from his right nostril that stopped at the crevice of his top and bottom lip pushed against each other in a desperate attempt to distract himself from the ache of his entire body.

The portal approached faster than he thought it would. Suddenly he was barrelling through it into the slightly warmer atmosphere of the basement.

 _Those ghosts are still on my tail._ His feet touched the ground and pulled back up at at horrible sting of broken bone rubbing against broken bone. He cried out and pressed his lips together again; screaming would bring attention in the case that anybody in his house was awake. Danny floated dizzily towards the controls and leaned heavily on the big red CLOSE button that jutted up over the other switches and levers. The mechanical hum of motors working to close the yellow striped towards filled the quiet basement. The only other noise was the steady _drip drip_ of ectoplasm onto the floor.

Danny collapsed. The blood on the back of his jumpsuit streaked against the side of the control panel. Okay, now he needed medical supplies. There were some in the basement, wasn't there? Maybe if he could just work up the energy to look for them …

A mechanical _whir_ made Danny snap his eyes open. If he wasn't mistaken, that was the sound of …

The barrel of an ectogun met his gaze. Danny wheezed in a breath.

"Jack."

The gun lowered, albeit slowly, revealing the horribly calculating and stern faces of Danny's parents. Like he was a pile of gunk on the floor. He looked around at the ectoplasm surrounding his form. Well, yeah, he supposed that he _was_ gunk on the floor.

"It's the ghost boy," hissed Jack, eyes flicking to the face of his wife and back to the roughened figure on his laboratory floor. "We should end it."

Maddie bit her lip. "You see that? He's breathing. Ghosts … they don't breathe."

"Habit," Jack growled, lifting his gun again.

"We're gonna discard him just like that? Whatever happened to studying his unique structure?"

"Right here, guys," Danny muttered distractedly, head tilting towards his shoulder. He reached to his throbbing side and pulled away with a hiss; a giant gash from his ribs to his ribs had met his fingers. "Why aren't I healing?"

"I was wondering the same thing," Maddie whispered. She squatted and came eye level to the ghost in front of her. "What happened?'

Danny grimaced at the way the question was worded without actual concern. "Skulker."

"The mechanical one? What'd he do?"

Danny frowned. He fought to talk over his tongue, which felt swollen. "Don' remember."

Maddie's frown deepened. "Corrupted ectosignature?" She wondered aloud. Then: "What's your name?"

"Need. First-Aid."

 _"What is your name?"_

"Danny."

Maddie visibly shivered at the name of her youngest child. Danny noticed this, vaguely, and corrected himself. "Phantom! I'm Phantom." Suddenly, he doubled over and threw up directly beside his outstretched legs.

"What's happening to you?"

"Dyin'."

Both Jack and Maddie's eyebrows furrowed. "You _are_ dead."

Phantom seemed to think this was funny, because he started chuckling weakly. "Almost," he mused, like he'd forgotten that there were people around him. "Almost dead." Seconds later, his eyes widened a fraction. "'M gonna die."

Neither Jack nor Maddie knew what to say to this, so they stared silently as Phantom bled out on their floor.

The dark room lit in a blinding white light. Maddie's eyes didn't have time to adjust before Phantom shouted "No!" and the light disappeared. He started wheezing in hasty breaths of anxiety. "'M gonna change!" Tears formed in the corners of his eyes. "I can't! "I can't! Stay _awake!"_

The light appeared again, but Phantom wasn't frantically yelling anymore. When Maddie's eyes adjusted, she saw that the light came from two rings that travelled up and down the ghost's body. Right before the top ring reached Phantom's face, his eyes closed and his entire body slumped into complete unconsciousness.

Maddie was momentarily blind even after the light subsided. Jack, beside her, reacted first.

"No."

Maddie rubbed the white spots from her eyes and looked again.

Before her, her youngest, her _baby,_ lay in a heap where Phantom should have been. The ectoplasm around his form had turned horrifically blood red. It … it was blood. It was Danny Fenton's blood.

She stood suddenly. It couldn't be real. It had to be an illusion. Her hand reached up subconsciously to cover her mouth.

Next to her, Jack started running. "Where's the First-Aid!" He shouted crazily, frantically ripping open cabinets and overturning supplies that covered the tables.

Maddie silently shook.


	25. a strange momentary alliance

Valerie wasn't sure how she had gotten herself in this situation.

One might suppose that by saying such an ominous statement she meant it in a bad way but, surprisingly, she had not. Something had changed in the last three years and even she was afraid to admit that. Graduation was just around the corner and with that came college. She was working towards law enforcement and, while that didn't always entail ghost-napping, she and her father alike thought that it would be best for a girl of her … interests. She was not even close to ready to leave her father. Sure, after three years of late night hours and brown-nosing he had gotten his old position at Axiom back, but Valerie still felt a sort of protectiveness over Damon that had only come after her fiasco with Danny Phantom and his dog. Now was the matter of waiting a little while to upgrade to a nicer, larger apartment (she and her dad had found that apartment-style living had actually suited them quite nicely and that they wouldn't mind residing in a complex for a couple years before house hunting).

Danny Phantom. The boy who had changed her life in more ways than one. She'd never understand Vlad Master's interest in him or his constant denies of Cujo being his dog when she saw the two around each other all the time, but Valerie supposed that didn't matter now. She had other things to consider, like college, the new apartment, and … well, and the ghost lying next to her and staring silently up at the night sky with a swollen eye and a relaxed expression.

Phantom and Valerie loved to fight one another, though it seemed Valerie did most of the fighting. It did not even constitute as fighting anymore. Not really. She and Phantom moreso … sparred. For hours. In the middle of the night. Yeah, that's what it was.

She really should just handcuff the ghost now and take him back to Masters, but she'd found quickly that Phantom always managed to get away in record time so, really, what was the point? It was rare that he and Valerie would sit silently on a roof with one another, but still. They were both sore from the fight and tired because of the moon, whose tiny crescent allowed stars to be seen more visibly through the dark of space. Valerie guessed that she had just stopped caring as much. She and Phantom had been young when the incident occured and she had made plenty of mistakes along the way. The two of them were just … older, both physically and mentally.

Valerie furrowed her eyebrows. It was strange how much Phantom had changed, considering he was a ghost. She glanced over and noticed that it had not been just mentally, either. Phantom had lost his baby face and a couple pounds along the way, revealing a jawline and cheekbones. He'd gained muscle mass, though, which showed through his suit. And he had grown taller. Valerie used to top him by four inches, at least. Now the tip of his nose went to about Valerie's hairline when they stood side by side, and that was with her uniform on.

Valerie studied his swollen eye. She'd done that earlier with a well placed kick to his face. It had not bruised yet and it might never get the chance to due to Phantom's accelerated healing. Valerie had gone unscathed, just like she usually did. After three years, she had began to notice how he purposely missed his shots. Valerie had seen him around other ghosts and he never missed, not anymore. It was just with her.

Why? Why would he do that for her? Was it because he was human and he had some sort of moral compass? Because he had convinced himself that he was the hero through and through? Or because of something more primal, like how his ghostly obsession forbade him from doing harm to anyone alive?

"You're staring," Phantom mumbled, and Valerie tensed when she realized he and his illuminated eye (the other one was completely closed now) were staring intensely into hers.

"Sorry," she quickly responded, looking back up at the sky.

Beside her, Phantom chuckled lightly. He was completely at ease, even after what she'd done to his face. She'd done worse before, back when Phantom wasn't so good at dodging. Briefly, she wondered if ghosts scar.

A moment of silence passed. Valerie sighed, staring at the big dipper. It and the little dipper were the only two constellations she knew. That and Orion's belt, which always shone brighter than the stars around it. She supposed that's how it became a constellation in the first place.

"When I was younger I wanted to be an astronaut," Phantom said suddenly, breaking the quiet.

Valerie closed her eyes. She could feel Phantom beside her, his cold presence somehow not inspiring a feeling of uncomfortability. "Before you were … ?"

"Dead, yeah." Phantom's eyes searched the skies above and he smiled a little. "I memorized the control panels in seventh grade."

"What's stopping you from going?"

"I'm a ghost now, remember?" Phantom sighed, but it didn't sound sad. Just nostalgic. "Plus I've already been sans the spaceship."

"You're joking." Valerie opened her eyes to look at him and his soft, remnistic smile. "What's it like?"

Phantom did not respond for a bit. "Void of oxygen? I mean, it's really cool, but I was kind of on important business at the time. It's … kinda like the Ghost Zone, actually. You ever been? Besides when we were imprisoned by Skulker, I mean."

Valerie bit her lip. "No." A beat passed. "It kinda creeped me out, actually."

"Well yeah, I'm sure. I was creeped out at first, too," Phantom said. "But if you just sit in there like we're sitting now, it's really peaceful. Just miles and miles of green swirls."

"Sounds empty."

Phantom did not respond to that. Instead, he hummed and began twiddling his thumbs on his stomach.

"Did you get good enough grades? To become an astronaut, I mean."

"Yeah, I guess. It was middle school, mind you. Grades don't really matter when you're that young. But they started dropping when I-"

Valerie looked over. Phantom had froze. "When you what?" she prodded.

" … When, uh, right before I died, I guess."

Valerie furrowed her eyebrows. "Why?"

Phantom shook his head, almost panicked. "I don't wanna talk about it."

Valerie stared at him. That was really uncharacteristic for Phantom. She'd never really seen him unwilling to talk, especially about his past. He was always going on about what he used to do when he was alive, like how he loved eating at the Nasty Burger with his friends and how Valerie should totally try the vanilla milkshake with strawberries and bananas in it, extra strawberries and bananas. This time, he'd frozen. Like it wasn't something he wanted to share.

Like he was hiding something.

Valerie didn't prod. Maybe she would another day, but tonight she didn't want to scare him away. As much as she hated admitting it, it was nice lying beside him. Calming. Peaceful. Like it was just him and her and the rooftop and the stars and nothing else.

… Empty. But not in a bad way. Valerie wondered if this was how space felt. How the Ghost Zone felt.

"You should take me sometime," Valerie said, almost to herself.

"Where?"

"The Ghost Zone. You should … show me around."

"Really?" Phantom sat up a bit and studied her, eyebrows raised. "Aren't we supposed to be like, mortal enemies or something?"

Valerie just shrugged. After a while, Phantom lay back down.

"Sure. We should do it before our graduation, though. I mean your. Your graduation. Before you leave."

"Okay."

Valerie wasn't sure how long they had lay there afterwards, but neither of them had gotten up to leave until after the sun had turned pink from sunrise and the birds had began chirping.


	26. forgiveness

_as always, completely unedited. i probably should proofread these before i send them off to the internet, but whatever._

 _i just wanted to put a little disclaimer here that the story is kind of choppy (in my opinion). it was originally purposeful, as i was trying to add some sort of_ mood _or something, and then not purposeful when i realized i actually didn't know what i was doing and that i was just making the story worse. so, yeah. please don't let your judgments be too harsh. Forgive!_

* * *

Vlad closed his eyes. Opened them. Closed them again.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

All around him lay emptiness, a dark room full of his smashed hopes of ever leaving such a wretched place. There was no light. There was no exit. They would come for him in their suits of armor that blocked their faces and with their weapons that left scars riddled across his back and ripped his only sweat-covered shirt. Faintly, he noticed that he was still bleeding a bit from yesterday's fight. That must be why he felt so out of it.

Vlad stared up at the dark ceiling with the dark walls and wished for his death. It'd been forever since he'd been captured. At least two years, probably more. A lot of the same. Eat, sleep, fight, stare. Eat, sleep, fight, stare. Think. Think about what Danny might be up to. Think about what terror Amity Park was facing, if any at all.

Think about Jack's face when he turned the spacecraft around and left him for dead, floating aimlessly through space on nothing more than an asteroid. A piece of long forgotten rock heading towards nothing. Nowhere. Dark space. Dark ceiling. Dark walls.

Vlad tried to shake that thought out of his head. He could sense himself going insane like a stray cat developing rabies. Maybe that's what his captors wanted. Maybe that'd put on a better show.

Vlad thought of death. Of what it might be like. If it was more of the same. Dark space. Dark ceiling. Dark walls.

The familiar sound of the wall sliding open with a mechanical whir hit Vlad's ears. The onslaught of light made his eyes burn. He closed them.

Two people were talking to each other in a language he didn't understand. He could feel one step over him, prod him, talk to the other in question.

Ha. They thought he was dead. Before, he might've taken an opportunity such as this to shift and fight, to disarm his attackers with a well placed ectoplasmic blast and be done with it. Maybe he would have even killed them just for the sake of doing so. Vlad was no stranger to death, both in the arena and out. He had killed many escorts before. It was why whoever was in charge decided to give him two escorts instead of the one that used to guide him blindfolded through a maze of tunnels.

Slowly, Vlad rolled onto his stomach and crawled onto his knees. Waited for the impact of a boot or the jab of an electric spear. When nothing but the blindfold came down upon him, Vlad let go a gentle breath of release and stood. He held his arms out away from his body for them to shackle. He let them push him forward and desperately tried to keep his feet under himself. Vlad had gone through this series of movements more times than he cared to count.

A left. A right. Straight for a while. Another right. A final left. A crowd of screaming, exhilarated, bloodthirsty people. A sudden change in atmosphere that indicated they were now outside. The mechanical whir of the door closing behind them. The shackles unlocked. The blindfold ripped off.

Vlad squinted to let his eyes adjust to the spotlight and noticed that there were a few more people here than before. He'd never been given the opportunity to see his viewer's faces; they were always shrouded in the darkness of night (or what Vlad assumed to be night) and covered up by the blinding lights that lit up the muddy, red dirt arena perfectly.

Vlad nearly collapsed when the guards let him go and blinked out of view. He used to wonder if his escorts disappeared through use of teleportation. He could not find himself caring any longer

His opponent, it seemed, was relatively new. He fought tooth and nail as his own escorts led him out but, as Vlad looked closer, he noted that every movement was controlled. Not as reckless as the others. Even from such a distance, he could tell that he'd be dealing with an experienced fighter (albeit smaller than the ones he was used to dealing with).

Vlad's eyes widened a fraction when he realized that he did not care. He had cared yesterday. And the day before that. He had cared just enough to fight his opponent and win to see another day. To see his dark cell again. To see another opponent barreling his way. To rinse and repeat despite no actual hope of ever getting out alive.

Vlad had contemplated death many times before. He'd edged closer and closer towards it, whether by sickness, by starvation, or by battle wounds. He had even wanted death during his times of isolation, when all he had was his own thoughts to keep him company. Usually when he stepped out into the arena his instincts would kick in and he would realize that he actually did not want to die.

They were not kicking in today.

Vlad rolled out his shoulders and shifted anyway. When he'd first arrived, they had stripped both him and his … ghostly self of clothing and swapped both out for a ragged purple shirt and standard gray pants. His had been too small when they had first given him the items but now they seemed almost too large width-wise; height-wise they were much too tattered to tell.

His opponent was finally let go of. He too was wearing the uniform, but it still fit him tightly. Another sign of recent capture.

The bell rung. The crowd roared.

The fight had officially begun.

Vlad was the first to move. He flew upwards, avoiding the buzz of the invisible electric dome that surrounded the arena. Opponents typically could not fly, so it opened his playing field and offered a noticeable advantage over the other. Typically it would cause the opponent to become antsy and jumpy, perhaps a bit more nervous than before.

Vlad couldn't find it within himself to be nervous. Win or lose, live or die. It did not matter, not on this planet and in this life. He recounted how meaningless his old life had been. Had he really been so silly as to fight a young boy for … for what? For his mother?

Vlad had read somewhere that visual memory wasn't easily retained. He could not even remember their faces.

Vlad huffed. He'd go through the motions anyway. His ability to never stop moving in the face of a totally immovable object was something that he used to pride himself on. He did not know if he could call moving on autopilot in the midst of a fight a strong personality trait.

Vlad looked down to where his opponent had been only to realize they had disappeared. He scanned the floor almost lazily, not allowing himself to grow surprised.

"Looking for something?" Came a voice from behind, and he twisted violently. Opponents did _not_ talk. They only fought.

But … this voice had sounded familiar. If he slowed down to think, maybe he could place it.

 _WHAM!_

Vlad found himself falling, falling, falling. He hit the ground so hard it made a crater in the soft earth around him. Before he could open his eyes he could feel the presence of his opponent standing above him, see the sudden absence of light through his eyelids that signified that he was in someone's shadow. They were probably winding up for the hit now, planning on how they would end his life with a well-placed fist to the temple.

"Vlad?"

He opened his eyes. Faintly, Vlad could hear the crowd booing at the lack of action and blood-spilling. He, however, was focused on the boy, no, the _man_ standing before him. Blazing neon green eyes that had widened to the size of saucers, messy white hair that he'd never bothered to fix over the years, that faint white line down his cheek that Vlad had caused when he threw a kitchen knife at him while Maddie was in the other room.

There were differences, too. So, so many differences. His mouth had fallen open to reveal a set of fangs that were like his own except much smaller. His face had lost it's baby fat, revealing a much more pronounced jawline and cheekbone. He'd grown a foot and a half taller, making him a few inches over six feet. He was still lean, but he had a sort of bulk to him that made it evident that he'd gained muscle mass.

"Daniel?"

Vlad probably looked like a mess. Some scrawny, starved old man lying in a crater.

"Oh, oh God," Danny said, running a dirty hand through his hair. "I-I punched you! You're bleeding!"

"What?" Vlad reached up and his fingers met with wetness that was smeared across his forehead. "Oh."

"Oh? Oh?! That's all you have to say? What are you _doing_ here?"

"I'm a prisoner," Vlad grunted, struggling to sit up. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Danny shrugged loosely, still wearing the same befuddled expression as before. "I work with NASA."

Now it was Vlad's turn to be confused. "NASA?" Vlad's eyes widened. "How old are you?"

"26. I got in a little earlier because I-"

Danny stopped. Stared down at Vlad. Sighed heavily. "It's been ten years, Vlad."

Ten years. _Ten years._ Ten whole years of … of what? Of lying in a prison cell? Of fighting other prisoners two to three times a week?

Vlad shook his head. This was ridiculous. He could contemplate the whole ordeal later.

"So … NASA is here?" he asked.

Danny nodded. "Waiting for the OK signal from me. I'm supposed to map large points out so we can capture the criminals without completely destroying the planet."

"NASA is an interstellar police station now?"

Despite himself, Danny smiled a bit. "Pretty much. Now come on; we need to act like we're fighting so they don't kill us."

Vlad stood, shaky now that he knew his opponent wasn't a threat. "Why are you helping me?"

Danny tilted his head a bit like a dog. Vlad almost rolled his eyes.

"I was horrible to you. I almost destroyed the whole planet. And you're helping me. Why?"

Danny stuttered, stopped, and tried again. "I can't believe I'm saying this," he muttered almost conspiratorially. "Listen, Vlad, people make mistakes. And you pissed me off. Like, a lot. But when I found out that Dad had left you to die in space, I got mad about it because even though you're a terrible person, you're still a person. With … feelings. I think."

Vlad blinked. Danny took a breath.

"I just mean that … that it has been ten years. I forgive you for doing all that shitty stuff, so I think it's time for you to forgive yourself."

"So you're not going to kill me?" Vlad asked. "People are coming to save us?"

"I don't kill people, Vlad." Danny turned, stopped, and threw a smile over his shoulder. "And yeah. People are coming."

Vlad could not believe his ears. They were going home. They were going home and Vlad was going to be able see Earth and eat human food and see a few people that he had ended up missing dearly. And then there was the best thing of all.

Danny had forgiven him.


	27. hypnotized

DANNY FENTON HAD never been more anxious. Well, except for that time when Sam had convinced him to go on that roller coaster ride at Six Flags, but that was beside the point.

"It's senior prom." Sam Manson looked exasperated, her shoulder-length black hair tied up in a classy updo. She'd changed out of her black and purple dress in exchange for leggings and a baggy purple sweatshirt the moment she'd entered the gym for after prom. "You have to learn to loosen up! Have a little fun."

Danny glanced over at Tucker Foley, who was flirting helplessly with girls on the other side of the gym. He tapped his foot impatiently. "I know, but just-what if Skulker gets out?"

"Skulker's only after you, Danny; he wouldn't hurt the city."

"What about Technus? And Ember? What if cheese-head shows up with a sudden need to destroy everything in his path?"

Sam rolled her eyes for about the twentieth time. Daniel was not going to listen to her reason. He'd been on vacations in the past four years of his ghostly career, sure, but Sam and Tucker had always kept a close eye on the city. This was an entire night without even making a quick flight around town and it was driving the teen that paced in front of her crazy.

"Okay, how about one flight. Just real quick, make sure the ghost portal is locked, check around town; I'll be back in less than-"

"Dang it, Danny!" Sam ground her teeth, careful to keep her voice low. "Don't you get it? Ever since this hero business started up at fourteen-fourteen-you've been nonstop. Can't you take one night to yourself?"

Danny looked at Sam with those big, puppy dog eyes that always made her succumb. Glow in the dark stars reflected in his irises.

Sam shook her head, opting to stare anywhere but her friend's face. "Don't give me that look. Hey, there's lots of stuff to do that can occupy our time. It's only midnight. We could, uh," she eyed the universe themed gym in haste, her eyes landing on a particularly large dark blue banner overhanging a small stage, "look! There's a hypnotist show at one! Danny, you love hypnotists!"

"You know what I would love even more?"

"If you say going on patrol, I swear I will punch you in your-"

"Hey! Make some room for the third wheel!" Tucker squeezed past students, tripping over feet before landing solidly beside Sam. "What's going on?"

"Sam won't let me go on patrol." Danny said it like an accusation, glaring at the girl in question with steel blue eyes. Sam had suggested the blue tie to accentuate his eye color, but now, with his white collared shirt and that sky blue tie, his black hair a mess upon his head, Sam was finding it harder and harder to keep denying his request. She wished she had suggested red or something. Maybe she could convince Tuck and Danny to switch ties . . .

Shaking the thoughts out of her mind, she jabbed a polished finger in Danny's direction. "He refuses to have any fun!"

Tucker shook his head. "You know, I sucked up to Star for two months to get this universe themed prom up and running."

"Really? You're siding with her?" Danny queried incredulously.

His best friend shrugged indifferently. "No. I'm not siding with anyone. I'm just saying that I do a lot for you Danny, a lot, and one of those things happens to include giving Star a back massage at six in the morning. It would be nice if you just stayed and hung out with your best bud, ya know?"

"I was telling him that he should go up for the hypnotist," Sam said.

"Bro!" Tucker wrapped Danny in a side hug, slinging his arm around his shoulder and pulling him close. "I would love to see you hypnotized. Plus, people say that it's the equivalent of eight hours of sleep. How long has it been since you've had eight full hours of sleep?"

Danny put his hand on his chin comically. "Well, there was that-no, never mind. What about the first time with Nocturne? I think I might have been- "

"Danny, the last time you got eight full hours of sleep, you were fourteen and happened to be lacking in the supernatural abilities department." Sam rolled her eyes.

Danny raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. "Fine! Fine. I'll relax. I'll stop asking about going on patrol. Just don't make me go up on stage. What if I say something I'm not supposed to say?"

Tucker chuckled. "That's the paranoid Danny I know. Come on, let's go get some good seats before this crowd starts suffocating me."

"Do I have any volunteers? Does anyone want eight hours of the best sleep they've ever had?"

Slowly, surely, people started walking onstage and taking a seat in one of the metal fold up chairs. Danny heard multiple people mutter that they would like eight hours of sleep, especially with the upcoming late night activities.

Tucker leaned over to Danny, furrowing his eyebrows. "Come on, man! Raise your hand!"

"I'd rather not." He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

"One seat left! Do i have one more volunteer for the most relaxing sensation they've ever felt?"

Sam groaned and reached for Danny's hand, jerking it upwards before he could protest. Despite desperate feats to keep his hand down without hurting his friend, Sam wasn't backing down.

The hypnotist noticed him and smiled easily, beckoning him with a hand to come onstage.

Danny stayed planted in his seat.

"May I remind you of the ghost hypnosis that Freakshow put me under?" Danny muttered, fighting against his friend's shoving hands.

"Come on, does that guy look evil to you?" Sam questioned.

Danny cocked his head, studying the man. "Well . . ."

"Daniel James Fenton, get on that stage before I beat you in front of everyone here."

"Fine." It was a groan more than anything else, a plea for help shining in his eyes as he trudged over the legs of students and up the stairs to the stage. He plopped down in the seat and crossed his arms, glaring down at Sam and Tucker.

The two smiled broadly. He stuck his tongue out at them.

"Okay, now remember: hypnosis won't work unless you let it. Rest your arms, lock your eyes on one spot on the ceiling, stop tapping your foot. You, in the blue tie, yes you, stop tapping your foot. Just sink into your chair and listen to the sound of my voice . . ."

The show began. The hypnotist-Nick Fredrick, as he had introduced himself-talked in a quiet, slow voice throughout the entirety of it. He meandered along the sides of the stage, winking at the crowd, making a big show. Then, as he walked behind the rows of chairs, he began to count down from ten.

ten,

Sam smiled. Danny's head was actually drooping. Admittedly, it was the most relaxed Sam had seen him in years.

nine,

Tucker looked over at Sam, then fixed his gaze on his best friend. Danny's eyelids wavered but his eyes remained fixed to that one spot on the ceiling that Nick had instructed him to look at before.

eight,

seven,

six,

For a moment, Sam was afraid that Danny was going to fall out of his chair, or go intangible, or something, but he just kept staring at the ceiling, body drooped, hands at rest.

five,

four,

three,

Someone onstage took their eyes away from the ceiling and smirked at Nick. Tucker mused to himself. How could Danny be on the verge of passing out whilst this average kid didn't even look tired? He yawned, shaking his head. Then again, Danny probably hadn't slept for three days.

two,

one.

and sleep.

Sam had to cover her mouth to stop herself from laughing when Danny's head fell against his chest. Here he was, the savior of Amity Park, being hypnotized by someone who probably learned everything he knew from a beginners magic box and a few hypnotizing lessons on YouTube. It was comical, really.

Someone stood up, shook their head at their friends, and joined them in her seat while Nick ushered anyone that was hypnotized from the crowd to come forward. When no one came, he shrugged and began instructing the hypnotized students. Sam looked around the room and saw Mr. Lancer staring at Danny, his lips lifted in a somewhat smile and his eyes twinkling.

She nudged Tucker, gave him a supportive thumbs up, and focused her attention on Danny.

The show was hilarious, even more so with her best friend in the mix. He was rubbing suntan lotion on his body (a classic among hypnotists), eyeing imaginary girls, forgetting his own name, sharing his dream car with a trademark smirk and an ease that he could only achieve years before, before he studied the room for escape routes and attack points, before he saw the horrors that came with being a hero.

This, Tucker found, wasn't just good for Danny. This was good for them. For Sam and him to see Danny in such an easygoing way.

More people began to gather around the stage, watching Kwan stumble over his words as he realized that he was holding a balloon in his hands, not the new iPhone 7.

Tucker's heart warmed in his chest.

And then became a freezing block of ice upon the hypnotist's next command.

"You are a superhero."

Sam looked at Tucker and shrugged, muttering a quick, "Don't worry," before crossing her arms and slouching back in her chair. She watched Danny's head bob against his chest.

"You fight villains, save lives, you even have your own adoring fan base. Excuse me, sir," he tapped Kwan on the shoulder, "Who are you?"

"I'm Iron Man," Kwan replied in a voice deeper than his normal one. He had a look of determination fixed on his face.

The crowd collectively laughed.

"And what can you do, Iron Man? Show us some moves."

The laughter echoed off the gym ceiling as Kwan made dramatic gestures in his chair, firing laser beams out of his hands and muttering commands to JARVIS.

"Okay, Iron Man, sleep. And what about you, miss? Who are you?"

It continued down the line. Sam tapped her foot anxiously. This was way too close to home. Could they walk onstage and pull Danny out, or would the hypnosis state have long term effects? Was she just being paranoid? Glancing over, she could see that Tucker was nervous, too, fiddling with his thumbs uncomfortably.

The hypnotist approached the last seat.

"Stand up, son."

A tap on Danny's shoulder.

Danny shook his head, looked up at the hypnotist, and stood up.

"Okay, what's your name?"

"Danny."

"No, I mean, what superhero are you?"

"I'm Danny Phantom."

Sam and Tucker held their breaths. Sam was prepared to jump out of her seat and over the heads of the row in front of them. Tucker looked like he was ready to do the same.

The crowd collectively chuckled, though the statement wasn't as funny when there had already been three other "Danny Phantoms" standing onstage.

Nick chuckled. "Danny Phantom, huh? Show us some moves, Ghost Kid."

There was no humor on Danny's face now. His face was hard, stern, his mouth pushed down in the signature half-frown he gave enemies when they'd just interrupted his precious sleep. His fists clenched.

He locked his eyes on the ceiling.

And a ring reached out around his body.

Sam sat straight up in her chair, pouncing forward, but it was too late. There was Danny Phantom, standing onstage, toxic green eyes staring angrily at the ceiling.

The entire gym went silent. Even people who hadn't been watching the show stopped and turned at the sudden light show.

Nick's microphone slipped out of his hands. The loud, static-filled noise knocked Danny out of his stupor, and with a few blinks and a rub of his eyes, he studied the crowd uneasily.

Tucker and Sam had froze in their spots, stuck between joining Danny onstage and staying where they were. What good would they do, anyway?

Their friend's secret was out.

It didn't take Danny long to figure out. He looked down at his hands, queasily studied his jumpsuit, ran his fingers through his white shaggy hair. A breath of cold fear escaped his mouth.

"Oh, God."

Tucker was the first to jump onto the stage. He reached for his friend. "Danny . . ."

"Oh, my God. Oh my God. Tuck, Oh my God!"

Danny backed away uneasily. His eyes were wide in fear. The other students that had been hypnotized were coming to their senses and staring, befuddled, at their rather frightened town hero.

Sam jumped onto the stage, trying to remain calm. "Danny, it's o-"

Her friend took one last frantic glance around the room and flew straight through the ceiling, leaving the gym behind.

The silence lasted for a few more seconds when Valerie suddenly turned and walked towards the door. She slammed it shut.

Voices broke through the silence, yells of excitement and shock filled the air. Dash seemed a bit angry.

Nick Fredrick stood frozen onstage, face white.

Sam stomped over to him, grabbing his collar. Her face was red from anger, though misplaced. "What the hell do you have to say for yourself?"

The hypnotist stumbled for words. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish.

"That's never happened before."

end.


End file.
